#for silver it's something that he might do unconsciously but it's rooted in survival

[jaynovz]

Will Graham 🤝 John Silver

Mirror ball solidarity

#thoughts #the shows do have a lot of similarities but at a certain point they veer off #the dynamics between the two ships are I think fundamentally different in a lot of ways #ask me about Black Sails and Hannibal lit crit #at the end of the day silverflint is not anywhere near as destructive #it maybe as codependent but I think the important additions of polystuff like throwing Madi in there or throwing Thomas in there #or ideally both helps make this relationship a lot healthier if they would actually just talk to each other and work some shit out #whereas hannigram... well. it's absolutely rooted in someone doing so much bad shit to you but you literally can't cut them out of your lif #because nothing is ever going to compare to the experience of having them around even if it's a negative influence sometimes or often #like they are so Unhealthy #the zerosum game and that's why it ends with a cliff dive sigh #you love this terrible terrible thing and you hate yourself for loving it but you also can't deny it #so can't live with him can't live without him #let me try to do my last little bit to society by throwing both of our asses off of this cliff #I think they're metaphorical cliffs also because like there are no cliffs in Maryland by the way #what is it with these shows that I like in metaphorical cliffs #oh yes in the way in which silver and will are mirror balls is very different #they can both easily become different people and different personas but whereas for Will it's almost something he can't help doing #and he absolutely hates that #for silver it's something that he might do unconsciously but it's rooted in survival #though I would say they're both tormented by this tendency to be mirrorballs even if it works in a different way for each

[mikkomacko]

The Fighter 5

Harry tried with all his heart to get me to sleep. He requested warm milk, he hummed a random song, he buried his fingers in the roots of my hair and stroked through the strands in hopes that it would do anything to help. But I was still restless, falling asleep long enough to dream of Theo dying in some gruesome fight with Trina, before flinching awake to be met with Harry's worried, tired eyes.

"You don't have to worry," Harry murmured, dragging the pads of his fingers down my cheek and over my jawline. "you know I'll do everything to get you what you need." His lips touched between my eyebrows, soft as a feather. "You'll be safe."

I didn't tell him that I wasn't worried about myself or that I was dreaming of Theo. I didn't tell him that every time his fingers touched me I felt sick, constantly thinking that this is the first and only night I'd get him like this. I closed my eyes again, relaxing into the same cycle that took place until the sun broke the horizon.

~

Breakfast was quieter than usual. Arlia didn't attend, and I didn't ask where she was. I'd rather spend my last real breakfast with just Harry and Theo. Theo didn't eat much, not that I blamed him. My stomach felt like it was full of piles of rocks, so heavy that the platforms wouldn't even be able to lift me into arena. It was wishful thinking of course. Harry made Theo and I eat two slices of toast each, and drink at least one glass of water.

"No hot cocoa today," he had told me, pushing my glass towards me with a sorry smile. "need you hydrated."

Then he spoke. A lot. He talked about different weather conditions and environments. He told us if we could find water, we need to stay close to it. Most of the time, there's fish in there, and we know how to catch fish. He warned us about fires and their smoke and when to light them. Theo didn't look like he could really handle listening to Harry at that moment, so I listened for the both of us.

"We can do this Theo," I told him, when I noticed he was losing color in his face and his eyes were welling up. "we're going to get in the arena, and you're going to stay on your platform no matter what." I made sure he was looking at me before continuing. "I'll come get you. You only move if someone's coming towards you, okay?"

He nodded, his whole face wobbling as he held back tears. "What if something happens to you why you're trying to get to me? What do I do?"

"The only way I won't get to you is if I'm dead, and that's not going to happen." I swore firmly. There's absolutely no way I'm going to die knowing Theo's still in danger. "I promise, I'll get to you."

"B-but what if-"

"You're smart Theo," I reached over to wipe the water on his cheeks. "you'll know what to do. We've been surviving our whole lives."

He had nodded, despite the fear swimming around in his crystal eyes, and we fell into silence until Harry told us we had to go. We moved towards the elevator, Harry stopping me before I got too far. His thin fingers circled my wrists, and his tired eyes looked into mine with longing.

"I'll do what I can to take care of you two," Harry murmured, "whatever it takes." I nodded, lump in my throat. If there's one thing I've learned about Harry, it's that he can't lie. He'd rather move around the truth than actually lie, so I knew his word was good.

"I'm going to do this Harry," I swore, my words becoming muffled when he pulled me into his chest for a hug. "It'll either be Theo or me, I promise."

I don't know what made me say that it might be me coming home because I will make sure it's Theo. Maybe I felt like Harry needed to hear it, to know that I hear him.

"I know," Harry mumbled in my ear, pressing a kiss to my temple.

~

"Do they feel okay?"

Julius brushed his hands over my shoulders, straightening out the thick winter coat he'd just zipped up. I nodded, rolling my shoulders and shaking my legs to make sure nothing about my outfit feels wrong.

"It's going to be cold there." He told me, as if I couldn't already tell my the clothes he layered me in. I still nodded, unable to find anything to say. It's as if Harry kept my voice, stuffed in one of his pockets to make sure my words stay with him.

Julius was just finishing up braiding my hair when a buzz rang out, signaling that it's time for me to enter my platform. We don't say anything, I suppose he's realized I'm unable to, and I zip my coat up to my chin, stepping onto the platform. Julius stares at me, nodding firmly just once, and then the pedestal begins to rise. The tube grows dark, and the air cold. So cold it stings my face and ears, and my eyes begin to water. The first break of light doesn't hurt considering I'm already squinting from the winter breeze. Once I'm able to see clearly, I take in the arena.

A silver cornucopia sits in the center of the 24 tributes, large chunks of ice and swirls of frost hanging off of it. The area around us is nothing but snow and ice, a forest trapped in a winter wonderland. A screen above the cornucopia displays the countdown: 25 seconds. I quickly look around the weapons laid out, cursing when I realize the spears and larger weapons are further in, making it harder to get out. If I want Theo and I to survive, I have to get one. Backpacks are laid out in the grass, one sitting about three feet in front of me. I'll grab it on my way to the cornucopia.

12 seconds.

Looking around the tributes, I ignore their frightened gazes until I see a familiar pair of blue eyes staring right at me, frozen like a deer. Theo's trembling, cheeks already red in the cold. I give him a reassuring nod, readying myself to run as the final seconds tick down.

A gong ring outs, and I leap forward. My winter boots are heavy, but after years of swimming and ice fishing, I'm prepared to run on ice. Bodies blur by me, the arena empty of noise as I haul up the backpack and sprint to the cornucopia. Adrenaline or luck, I'm not sure, but I'm thankful when I realize no one's reached the weapons yet. I throw the backpack over my shoulders, diving forward to grip the sleek silver spear. I can hear rushed footsteps getting closer, and I steady myself on the side of the metal tube, turning just as the person gets within range. I don't even distinguish which tribute it is before I ram the butt of the spear into their head, knocking them unconscious.

It's Marlin, I realize, just as a screech rings out. I look up to see Trina slipping on ice as she hauls herself towards us. I have no doubt that she sees the blood dripping from her partners temple.

I jump back to action, stepping over him and grabbing the trident resting on the wall. Theo needs a weapon too. I duck around an incoming tribute, somehow managing to get by with only a tug on my sleeve. I notice all the careers are skidding around on the frosty ground. They must not have prepared for this kind of weather.

Theo is huddled down on his platform still, hugging his knees and looking around with wild eyes. His lock on me, and he launches forward too, meeting me halfway. I breathe out a sigh of relief when I realize he's okay and he somehow got a backpack too.

"Come on, we have to go!" I yell, flinching as the fighting screams of the Careers ring out behind us. They've armed themselves, and they're already killing. Theo takes the trident from me, following me into the line of forest trees. The further in we step the more the snow lessens, turning into the frozen ground. I thank whatever good karma's been waiting for me, thankful that I won't have to worry about tracks, and we run. The cold air burns my hands and face and I can feel my legs getting tired but I keep going. The fog from my breath gets too thick so I reach up and hold my hand over my face. I don't know how long we run for, but it's easier to move on this flooring rather than the ice so we go as far as possible.

"I can't-b-breathe." Theo stutters, my own throat and chest stinging painfully so I know it's time to stop. I slow down to a walk, tucking my chin into the collar of my jacket. We need to find water, or a safe place to hide so we can go through our bags and figure out what we need.

"We need a tree or something to hide out in for now." I mutter, teeth chattering. Theo nods, his own chin wobbling in the cold. It's hard to see anything through the thick trees, but the rocky edge of a mountainside peeks through. It's not too far away, and it'll provide some protection from the wind.

"Let's get closer to the mountain, yeah?" Theo follows my line of sight, nodding again. I adjust my grip on my spear, fingers aching and tight from being exposed. Theo and I continue walking, and I keep my eyes and ears perked for any sign of oncoming trouble. Maybe his fingers are cold too, or maybe he's frightened. Whatever it is, I don't question when Theo slips his empty hand into mine. Instead I welcome the warmth of having him with me, even if I wish he were a thousand miles from here, safe and sound.

~

Theo is the first to climb, my back to the tree trunk with our weapons while he pulls himself up the tree as high as he can. The sky is starting to darken, meaning the bloodbath at the cornucopia is dying down. I wonder how many died, which districts they were from. I wonder if somehow Marlin found his way to his feet and managed to slaughter with his fellow butchers. The thought makes me queasy so I push it away.

"I found a good spot!" Theo calls down, and I look up to see him peaking down from a rather large branch. It forks out at a comfortable angle, and luckily another branch for me is close by. I hand his trident up to him, still paying attention to the area around me. There's been no sign of anyone around us, but I refuse to let my guard down.

Theo takes his weapon, and mine, leaving me with free hands to climb the tree. I hurry, staying close to the trunk and ignoring the way the bark scratches my palms and makes them burn even more. I settle on the branch next to Theo, the small gap between them but being big enough for either of us to fall through, so we huddle close together to stay warm. Theo's tucked our weapons under his legs so they don't fall, bag on his lap. I do the same.

"I think my fingers are too frozen to open the zipper." He chuckles lightly, body shaking against mine.

"Tuck 'em into your sleeves." I say, fumbling with my zipper to pull it open. The first thing to bulge out is made of thick, heat reflecting fabric and I realize it's a sleeping bag. "Nice," I nod, carefully unrolling it and throwing it over Theo's legs. He wiggles closer to me, clutching the bag tighter against him.

"Thanks Athena."

I nod, continuing my search through the bag. Hopefully there's another one in the other back pack. The next is an empty water bottle with a small pack of water treatment in it. I huff, wishing it was already filled with water, but the Capitol is never that kind.

"Oh thank God." I grin, finding a pair of winter gloves. I clutch them tightly, rubbing my fingers of the waterproof exterior. "Put these on." I instruct, hanging them to Theo. He doesn't hesitate to slip them over his small hands.

The rest of the contents are dried beef and fruit, a long rope, and a pack of matches. Not bad for one backpack, and I can't help but be thankful that Theo managed to grab one too.

Once Theo's tucked in nice and warm, trident now safely in his bag next to him, I empty his bag. We've got the same stuff, so I settle in the same way he does. Sleeping bag up to my chest, spear next to me, gloves on. I'm settling the bag behind me as a backrest when Theo speaks up.

"There's never been an arena like this." His voice is quite and trembling, and I hope it's more from the cold rather than fear. He's safe with me, but I'd prefer he'd be able to hide his emotions. Never let anyone see your weaknesses.

"No there hasn't," I respond after thinking back on all the Games I've seen. Forest and mountains are typical, but frozen ones aren't. The last Games where the temperature was low lasted too long and got boring. Most of the tributes froze to death, and many Capitol residents were upset with the lack of blood shed and gore. "but that means everyone's at a disadvantage. Not just us."

"What do you mean?"

"No ones prepared for an arena like this. Did you see all the tributes that couldn't even move on the ice? We're all out of our element, meaning..."

Theo smiles, relieved. "We've got a level playing field."

I nod proudly, throwing an arm over him and pulling him to my chest. He happily cuddles up next to me, sighing pleasantly at the added warmth. "Exactly."

~

The temperature dropped with the sun, leaving Theo and I wrapped even tighter around each other. The only relief that came with nightfall was the absence of the wind. Theo's quietly eating a strip of beef, head against my shoulder when the Capitol anthem plays throughout the arena. He sits up straight at that, both of us looking to the sky.

The canons went off a couple hours ago, 14 of them, meaning 14 of the tributes have already been murdered. There's only 10 left, including Theo and I. I hate to think it, but I can't help but feel further at ease knowing I've only got 8 tributes to outlive to make sure Theo gets home.

Finally, the Capitol seal comes up in the clouds, displaying the fallen tributes. I can't help but chuckle lowly at that. I never realized how ironic it is that we're called the fallen. As if we were angels, torn from heaven to be murdered.

I don't any faces of the tributes displayed in the sky, nor there names. All the ones that are a threat, mainly the Careers, are still alive. The tiny bit of ease I just managed to muster up disappears. The real threats are still alive, and most likely hunting.

The sky returns to darkness, and Theo falls back into my chest. It doesn't take him long to fall asleep and I'm thankful. He needs rest, we both do, but for now I can keep watch. I don't think I'd be able to sleep anyway. In the frigid night, breath leaving my lips in clouds, I think of Harry sat on out balcony in pajamas, our blanket tucked around his shoulders. The thought warms my body, so I keep it fresh in my mind all night. Not that it's hard. I don't think I'd be able to stop thinking about him if I tried.

#The Fighter #harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #one direction #harry styles au #hunger games harry #harry styles as finnick #Hunger games au #Harry is basically finnick odair #district 4 harry #Victor Harry

[jenovahh]

KYKM - 8 Months, 12 Days

“Sir, I must ask you to leave…it would be for just a moment…”

The healer trembles under his silent glare, clutching his tools in fear.

“Let the healer do his work.”

Estinien strolls in through the curtains that have been put up around your bed, nodding to the poor healer. “You’re scaring the man. The Warrior seems to be stable, and I doubt the poor lad could do much else to harm them.”

The dragoon is right of course, but he refuses to give him the satisfaction. His desire to be by your side had kept him awake since he landed in Rhalgr’s Reach, keeping a silent vigil as the healers worked to fix you.

“I have kept watch all night. Show me where I might eat.” he grunts, pushing past Estinien who only lets out a long suffering sigh and waves to the healer who thanks him quietly.

The irony is not lost on him as he looks out upon Rhalgr’s Reach, a land he once ruled. Things do look different when the tents aren’t all crushed and on fire, it’s inhabitants not strewn all over the ground. He faintly wonders if there’s some sort of meaning to returning to lands he once saw over. If there’s meaning to returning to the place where he first crushed you, only to bring you back in his arms.

“Why are you here dragoon?” he asks, watching a soldier strike a dummy with disinterest. “Did you come for some sort of reward for your heroics?”

Estinien lets out a rude snort, crossing his arms as he does so. “Not like you’d have anything I want. I came to make sure the Warrior of Light was seen to, and take my leave.”

“…You seem to care for the Warrior of Light more than others.” he notes, glancing at silver hair from the corner of his eye. 

“I’m not the only one who cares deeply for the Warrior. Just the one with the least responsibility.” Estinien mumbles. “I do not doubt that Ser Aymeric would be here himself, if he did not have to run Ishgard. The Warrior of Light is well cared for, prince. They have not only saved people’s lives, but have also saved people from themselves.”

Zenos stares at the man for a moment, before scoffing. “They put others before themselves far too much.”

“Maybe. But that’s what draws you to them isn’t it?” Estinien quips, already turning to leave. 

“I await the day you will not be able to hide behind the Warrior’s good graces and speak so freely with me, savage.” Nothing irked him more than the man’s incessant need to toy with him, knowing full well he could do naught about it if he wanted to remain in your good graces.

“I know not of what you speak, Garlean.” Estinien mocked, lazily waving over his shoulder as he walked away.

One day you wouldn’t be around to hear of him striking the dragoon down, if only to force him to share whatever secret he felt he was hiding. Letting it go for now, he walks back over to your impromptu sick room, catching the healer as he leaves.

“How are they?” he asks, frowning at how the healer immediately pales as they lay their eyes on him.

“They are still suffering from the effects of the tranquilizer. Less so due to the tranquilizer itself, but more so due to the sheer amount that had been pumped in their blood stream. It must have been enough to take down a mammoth to finally subdue them. All other side effects have been treated, and all that can be done now is for them to rest, letting their body do the remainder of the work.”

At least the man is competent, giving a clean and clear description of what exactly is going on with you. Giving a small nod he brushes past him and moves to stand by your bed and continue his watch.

Your corner is strictly off limits, aside from members of the Scions who rushed over as soon as they got wind of the news. As much as it annoyed him to have so many fluttering around you there was little he could do about it, the dragoon’s words ringing true on just how much you were cared for. It had taken them several bells for them to finally leave, the one named Y’Shtola ushering them all out with a knowing glance thrown his way.

Since then he had barely left your side, patiently waiting for you to open your eyes. Time passed by with little notice, entertaining himself with a book of yours that he had kept stashed away. Healers would swoop in, spare him a nervous glance before checking on you, and leave as soon as they could. It bothered him none; the sense of otherness he had always carried. All that mattered was you waking up.

He couldn’t help but be amused by how even in the most dire of situations, you still managed to tower over all with your might. He hadn’t missed the few soldiers you had knocked out cold laid upon the floor of the tent in your rage, unwilling to take their experimenting lying down. As if those words he had whispered to you so long ago had taken root, and never let go.

Hear me hero. Endure. Survive. Live.

For the only sole pleasure left to him in this ephemeral world, live.

Your power, the Echo, was it still untrained? Still untapped, waiting for you to truly master its abilities? 

When you died in battle, would your soul fail to return to this world, and then would he be the one alone?

The thought immediately makes him frown, eyes glancing at your resting face. Perhaps that is what drove him to come to your rescue. That is what caused him to kill his countrymen in cold blood, without an ounce of remorse. Wasn’t it?

You have grown weak.

No. He was without peer. Without equal. Just because he had these…feelings did not mean he had grown weak. Ensuring that you were alive to fulfill your promise, and all that that entailed was not a sign of weakness.

“Soryu?”

He’s torn from his thoughts immediately, your eyes barely open. “Medicus!” he shouts, the shuffling of feet coming along soon after. The healers are upon you swiftly, bringing you water and other medicines as they check on how you’re feeling. Kindly you wave them away, insisting you feel fine, though he can see the exhaustion in your eyes. 

“How do you feel?” he asks, voice neutral though he’s doing his best to hold back his anger.

“Tired. I don’t remember much.” you breathe, flopping back on your pillow. “I was walking around the Lochs, heading to the Royal Menagerie…and then felt this sharp needle in my leg. And then there were more until I finally went down. Then I was awake and all these Garlean soldiers were around me…it’s there when things started to blur.” You stare at the ceiling as you tell your story, silent for a moment.

“Go on. Yell at me.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, watching as you finally turn to look at him. “I know you’re mad at me.” You mumble, pouting.

“I’ve not said anything,”

“You don’t have to.” Reaching out with a shaky hand, you caress the side of his jaw, close to his ear. “When you’re angry at me, you clench your jaw. I can always see it right here. It’s really tense.”

Sure enough his jaw relaxes immediately, causing him to grumble about over observant heroes. His hand reaches up to hold your own, frowning at how frail you feel. “If you know that I am angry, then there is no need to yell.”

Quietly you move to twine your fingers with his, the rightness of it decreasing his anger, if only a little. “It doesn’t feel nice does it? Not knowing where I am?” you ask quietly, drawing small patterns with your thumb.

“If you are telling me you left and got captured as a way to teach me a ‘lesson’, then I will be especially cross.” He rumbles, causing you to look away sheepishly.

“No, I didn’t. I really did leave to clear my head.” You still won’t look back at him, finding one of the curtains far more interesting. “What you said, or rather how you said it, really hurt. But as I was walking, I realized you were right. I do need to let go.” You’re both silent for a moment, giving him a moment to mull over your words.

“Do not run off like that again.” Your hand still in his, he brings it to his lips, marveling at it’s softness. Immediately, you turn back to him, cheeks bright. “Even if we are angry with each other, we have talked with one another like civilized beings. I would think myself deserving of that much respect, to not wake up and have the dragoon of all people come tell me you have been captured.”

“Dragoon…Estinien…?” you gasp, his hand holding yours a little tighter.

“Captured and drugged by Garlean soldiers. And I must come to your rescue. Find that you were throwing contraptions around without a care, risking harm to yourself.” He growls, nearly crushing your hand in an iron grip.

“Was I supposed to wait there for you, unsure if you would come find me?!” You nearly shout before remembering where you are. “They were about to poke me with needles and probably experiment on me. I was dizzy, but I knew I could at least fend them off! I was going to save myself!”

“You had no business saving yourself in that state.” It’s a fight to keep from raising his voice, something he’s never had to do. He’s never felt so much at one time. “I would think that you,”

“That I what? Couldn’t take care of myself?!” you hiss under your breath, eyes challenging him so fiercely, teeth glinting in defiance. The image does nothing to help the torrent his emotions are, the urge to make you submit nearly overcoming him.

“Bold words from someone who could not even stand after expending all their strength. From someone who fell unconscious soon after, making me think you dead, thinking I had failed.” he whispers harshly, teeth bared as he stares into your eyes.

You’re stunned into silence for a moment, before your expression melts into understanding.

I thought I’d lost you.

“I apologize Soryu.” you sit up, eyes gentle, glistening. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just needed my space, and went about it foolishly.” Leaning forward your lips press against his cheek, sweet and chaste. You remain close for a second, as if you were considering something, and move when you decide against it.

“But do you understand how I feel now? Coming home and you weren’t there and you were gone for so long and I didn’t know where you had gone?” you whisper softly, threading your fingers with his.

He can never stay mad at for you long, something he has learned over the past moons, and something he had come to accept as well. And while yes, there was a lesson to be learned from his side as well, he was still too prideful to admit it. “You did not scare me.” he grumbles, growing more irritated at your knowing smile as you allow him to continue holding your hand. 

“How can I make it up to you?” you ask sweetly, eyelashes fluttering and eyes twinkling. Just like that all of his ire is snuffed like a candle.

“Make me a Rolanberry Cheesecake.” he demands, voice soft against your skin making you giggle. Smirking against your fingers he allows himself to truly relax. In your current state you would not be adventuring for a few days at least, and would be directed to remain in bed for that time, meaning he got to keep you to himself a while longer.

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #my writings #kykm

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Waltzing with the Wallflower

I give you this humble offering of a tale bought to you by a writers brain that would not let her go to sleep until a rather ungodly hour. 

A period(ish) era AU. A warlord in a mask and a Princess very much out of her element.

Masterlist

---

Waltzing with the Wallflower

The venue was a pulsating decadent display dripping in fine damask and brocade silks. The rich colours added to the overindulgent opulence of the night. This was the biggest night of the year and the most sought after one to receive an invitation for. This was a time when it didn’t matter who you were, if you didn’t know someone who could get you in, you weren’t getting past the entrance.

The high vaulted ceiling shimmered with the light reflecting from the fine crystal chandeliers and shadows danced as elegantly as the ones taking a turn on the dance floor courtesy of the many candles lit around the room for added ambience. The orchestral music harmonised with the murmurs of conversation giving way to an overtly sensual undertone being created.

Everything felt amplified tonight as people mingled hidden comfortably behind their ornate masks. Here was the one night the silent battle of the class system crumbled. Conversation flowed freely between the people gathered alongside the wine and champagne. Platers of exquisite finger foods travelled on gleaming silverware as it was transported around the room by the hired help.

As beautiful as it was and as mouth-watering as the food looked one hapless princess had found she had lost her appetite entirely. This was a far cry from her usual environment working as a maid in a governor’s house. To say it had been a shock to be handed the invitation would have been an understatement.

It had felt like a fantasy to see such intricate embossed golden filigree on the expensive cardstock displaying the venue’s address in bold calligraphy that almost send a pre-emptive warning of things to come. She was aware that her employer had a predisposition to play games and this was clearly another way for him to seek enjoyment witnessing someone struggling to tread water so clearly out of their depth. She had pushed those thoughts to the side and was determined to make the best of the night. It was after all a once in a lifetime party.

Of course, that was what she had planned. But naturally, there is a reason why there is such a saying about the plans of mice and men. Nervousness had taken its root in her stomach and even behind her ornate mask, she could feel herself crumbling under the pressure of the extreme shift in social rank. It was a concern severely lacking in foundation as for this one night she along with the other guests were all stripped of their positions and prestige. Tucked safely behind their masks for one night only they were all equal. Still, the feeling of an outsider looking in was a hard one to shift and she found herself edging more and more towards the candlelit recesses of the venue.

She was thankful to have been lucky enough to borrow a gown for the evening. The plain burnished silver bustier clung to her giving a comforting sensation of being hugged. The silver fabric travelled elegantly over her hips gathering like tumbling waterfall to one side revealing a contrasting black fabric that when it moved revealed a hidden pattern that was picked out by the changing light and movement as she walked. To be honest, everything she had on was currently on loan from the governor’s daughter. Once she had found out that her maid had received an invite to the masquerade, she began excitedly dressing her up like a giant doll.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she watched the prestige of the evening swaying to the harmonics of the string orchestra in a Venetian waltz on the dance floor. The gentlemen leading the ladies in the swirling dips and twirls as they enjoyed their night's dalliances.

“Pardon me but I believe you dropped something, my dear.” An elegant monotone voice disrupted her daydream and she turned to find a gentleman standing next to her. His crisp white formal wear accented with teal embellishments was breathtakingly striking but it was his mask that drew her attention most of all. Unlike the majority of the other guests, his seemed to be a homage to an animal spirit. Crackle glazed tones of cream and burnt gold. Highlighted in subtle shades of brown blended out in such a way that almost made you wish to touch it and see if it was real fur. Its pointed ears and elongated snout covered just enough of his face to keep all but his chiselled jaw and bowstring lips covered. A gloved hand was being extended to her and she noticed that he had hold of one of her silver hairpins.

“Oh! Yes, thank you.” She reached out only to have her own hand miss its mark. The lips of the masked man had been pulled into an alluring smile. The eyes behind the mask sparkled as they remained locked on her.

“Allow me to fix it for you. I would hate for you to lose such a fine piece again and I fear it might be too difficult for you to do so without some help.” His voice was soft and slow. It felt like a spell was being cast as her body apparently moved of its own accord and turned to allow him access to her long black hair. The briefest of touches brushed over her neck as his long fingers combed through her locks, arranging it so as to attach to the pin more securely.

“You have beautiful hair, my dear.” His voice was so close that it felt almost as if it was being dripped like honey directly into her ear. A pleasant if unexpected sensation tingled down her spine in response to him.

“Thank you, Sir. You are too kind.” Blushing slightly, she turned to him again and gave a polite bow with her head.

“Are you not dancing tonight?”

“I fear I would be too clumsy in a place such as this to do any song justice.”

“Nonsense. If anything is to be at fault this evening it would be the man who failed to showcase your beauty.” His tone was so adamant and sincere it caused her breath to catch in her throat as she looked at him. “If you are concerned with crowds perhaps a turn in the garden would help calm your nerves. It seems such a shame to cloister yourself away in the shadows when you were obviously meant to move in the light.” Once more he elegantly extended his gloved hand to her. Accepting his hand in a veritable trance-like state the pair moved to the large baroquian windows leading to the gardens.

The chilled night air caressed her skin as she was led down the stone staircase of the balcony into the beautifully manicured gardens. The scents of the nocturnal flora carried on the wind like the music from the ball, wrapping around her mind like an irresistible piece of trickery that tempted her to forget herself completely.

Stopping in an area that seemed to be planted mostly with roses and a large fountain, the gentleman released her hand. The loss of connection brought her out of her befuddlement. The light of the moon above eerily lit the area touching the flower petals around her making them look more delicate and otherworldly. Caught up in her observations she had failed to notice the gentleman until the movement of him was caught reflected in the water beside her.

“Are you feeling better my dear?” He was maintaining a respectable distance from her but somehow observing him on the surface of the mirrorlike water made her feel like he was embracing her.

“You bought me here because you were concerned for me?”

“Naturally.” His eyes behind his mask almost appeared to glow by moonlight. She had thought it was a trick of the light before but those eyes really were like finely crafted yellow glass.

“Pardon?”

“Cultivated beauty pales in comparison to natural creation. Take these roses for example.” He removed his gloves one finger at a time slowly enough that the movement of it made her swallow thickly aware of the subliminal sexual desire it stirred inside her. His bare pale hand touched the very edge of the blooming flower tilting it towards his masked face. “There is no denying their elegance and beauty but any fool can cultivate that kind of thing with enough time and money.”

“They are beautiful.” She unconsciously moved to his side gazing at the same flower sighing.

“Are you aware of the saying beauty is in the eye of the beholder, my dear?” He paused for a few moments. Her large upturned eyes moved from the rose to him the stars from the sky above them swimming in the two pools of ink. “To me, these flowers are nothing more than poor man’s delusion. The real beauty can be found beyond the confines of such a thing.” He guided her towards the garden wall brushing aside the trailing ivy and clematis to reveal a hidden window. The small hollow arch had a sprawling view of a meadow that appeared to be right out of a fairy tale. “Wildflowers are always so much more alluring to me. After all, they are the ones that fought to survive against the odds of the fates themselves. No two are alike and the uniqueness of them tells a tale that binds one’s heart.”

“That is very poetic.”

“It is but one man’s truth.” There was something painful in his tone. As he looked out at the meadow sharing the view with her, she felt as if she was observing for the first time in her life a tortured soul. “Well, my dear. Would you care to dance?”

“You wish to dance with me, Sir?” He dropped the blanket of flowers back hiding the secret window once more.

“Why are you so surprised?” His question floated in the air over the rumbling chuckle that tumbled from his lips after it.

“I fear I am not good enough to be a very good dance partner.” The nerves she had felt at the ball were back with full force except this time her heart was also thumping in her chest as if providing her with a beat to march to her own destruction.

“I told you before my dear it is the responsibility of the man to showcase his partner’s talent. You need merely to entrust your body to me and let me take the lead and let me show the world how brightly you can shine.” The imperceptible shift as his body aligned itself to hers was so smooth, she did not realise they were dancing until she felt the slight warmth of his hand in hers.

She was lost in the soft spell he appeared to have cast over her. Even the faint sound of the fountain in the garden had melted away as she handed over control of her body to him. His body kept perfect time with hers as he drew out an elegance form her that she had no idea even existed. He was holding her like she was a delicate piece of art so fragile that she might break at any moment but he was also firm and commanding enough to guide her body effortlessly around the flowerbeds in a silent waltz in the moonlight.

---

[officerjennie]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Pre-Slash, Magic-Users A commission for @kitsunekage88 - hope you like it!

Commission and Ko-Fi info in blog header :) Click the link or continue below to read!

Traveling alongside a high ranking fire elemental hadn’t originally been on Tobirama’s To-Do list. Interfering in anyone’s business seemed so unlikely it was laughable at this point in his life, so used to minding his own, taking work where he could and never staying still long enough to learn the names of those around them let alone help them. Growing attached enough to a cause to care was as foreign to him now as it had once been a part of his nature.

What exactly had possessed him to aid in this venture, then, he couldn’t really say. The part of him so against careful analysis of himself wanted to say it was merely for the sake of preserving what was left of his powers. Too many dragons had been lost already, the earth’s magic dwindling further and further as their blood seeped into the ground. Jealousy was a nasty beast that drove men mad, and the ancient sky gods said to be too intertwined with the planet’s life force to cause any harm, even to defend themselves from their impending extinction.

Protecting one, preventing yet another dragon slayer from slaughtering a sacred animal for its scales and bone, should have been his reasoning. Stopping a magicless human from felling that which gifted the world what they could never use was surely enough to allow another pair of boots to march alongside his own, to sit across the campfire from another person for the first time in years.

It hadn’t been the only reason he’d stayed rooted in place at the inn all those nights before, voice cracking with misuse when he’d agreed to aid the Uchiha with his mission.

Their destination was the forest region at the northern border of their territory, at the foothills of the Senzu Mountains. Any path, dirt or paved or otherwise, had been left behind them several hours hence, the crunch of leaves beneath their feet only accompanied by the chattering of squirrels and the incessant grumbled curses under Madara’s breath. Even after traveling in each other’s company for weeks now, his pride had apparently not yet healed from the blow of asking for aid, no matter that it was necessary. An elemental might need no conduit to call upon their powers but it came at the cost of being limited to their bloodline’s element. With the hanging trees and brush becoming denser around them with each step, it was all too clear fire would do more harm than good here.

He paused as he felt a shift in the air, stopping next to a young oak just tall enough to avoid being smothered by its brethren towering above. Something pulled at the edge of his senses, tugging at the magic in his veins, and whether or not it was a warning or a call he could not tell.

“Why on earth are we stopping here? I see no dragon or slayer, mage.”

“Quiet.” Fingering the silver talisman hanging around his neck, he stepped closer to the oak, removing one glove with his teeth to place his palm flat against the rough surface.

Madara’s indignant squawking slipped away with his conscious awareness. Becoming one with the greater stream was dangerous, leaving a small part of himself behind each time he reached into it but he did so anyway. Followed the endless tracks like spiderweb fractures on glass, felt the pulse of something beyond his understanding, overwhelming enough to be just around the next corner but never quite able to find what he was-

There.

It took more effort to pull himself back together than to let go, but that was nothing new. His tracking had felt like seconds to him though by the look on Madara’s face it must have been some time. It left Tobirama panting, blood trickling out of his nose but he wiped it away with little care, slipping his glove back on and taking a moment to gather his wits.

“East. It’s due east.” He hated how breathless he sounded, how he didn’t feel like himself after (it had been far too many years since he had stopped feeling like Tobirama, so much of him lost in small increments. Yet every time felt like a fresh wound that made him long for the comfort of the family he’d lost touch with long ago).

Giving Madara no time to respond, Tobirama set off immediately toward the source of heavy energy so dense it made the air thick around them.

Tobirama may have never seen or sensed a dragon before, but he knew a powerful being when he felt it. And that energy had been massive and very much alive.

The quiet lasted only a few minutes between them, the whole while Madara’s steady gaze burning a hole in Tobirama’s back. If it wouldn’t have been a waste of precious energy to fight with him Tobirama was tempted to snap and demand what the issue was. Madara solved that mystery for him either way, walking faster to catch up and frown thoughtfully over at him.

“Sure you’re going to make it, mage?”

His tone lacked its usual verbal sneering, barely sarcastic enough to not be sincere concern. Not knowing exactly what he was supposed to do with that, Tobirama stopped to send a seething glare his direction, clenching his fists to stop the exhausted shaking in his arms.

“Spare me the unnecessary concern and worry about keeping yourself in control. The last thing I need is to deal with a forest fire brought on by a temper tantrum.”

“Temper tantrum?” Small flames flickered to life in black hair, and Tobirama used the moments it took Madara to breathe through his frustration to duck under a low hanging branch and continue onward.

Sheer stubborn will was all that kept him going until dark. By the time Tobirama allowed himself to rest black had crept into his vision, and he all but collapsed against a vine covered tree trunk, any and all camp setup left to his companion as unconsciousness took him.

The midday sun greeted him through the thick canopy overhead. It was quiet around him but not eerily so, air heavy but not suffocating. Before opening his eyes Tobirama took stock of his state, making sure he’d fully recovered from slipping into the magical pathways the day prior.

When he lifted his head, Madara stood not far away with a large hawk perched on his arm. He seemed unconcerned by the sharp talons digging into his skin, head titled to the side as the bird clacked its beak.

Madara chirped, and it sounded so close to an actual bird sound Tobirama snorted in surprise. It earned him a sharp look from his companion, and a squawk from the hawk as it took off, leaving behind a deep cut on the arm it had been perched on.

“I didn’t know you spoke bird, Uchiha.” Despite his drawling tone, it was admittedly an interesting and unexpected talent. Not that he thought Madara could truly speak an avian language, just that he’d been clearly attempting to communicate in some fashion.

“I wasn’t speaking bird, mage.” Tobirama rolled his eyes at the obvious statement, finally pulling himself up while Madara continued. “She’s trained to understand my commands - how do you think I planned to track the hunters in such a large forest?”

He had a good point, though Tobirama wasn’t going to admit it out loud. Instead he rolled his stiff shoulders and dusted some of the dirt and leaves stuck to his cloak.

“Since you asked for my expertise, I thought it understood that I would be doing the tracking. Why else would I have wasted time locating the dragon if not to find our quarry?” Without being able to sense the hunter’s magic, since they lacked even a drop in their system, he couldn’t exactly track them. But knowing what the hunter was here for made that getting around that hurdle easy.

“Well I hadn’t planned on having help.” Madara crossed his arms with a huff, ending the conversation with a childish jerk of his head and something too dangerously close to a pout to be good for Tobirama’s sanity.

Before his brain could make any insane connections between that expression and anything even remotely close to the word ‘cute’, Tobirama turned away and busied himself, crouching down to search through his pack for a late breakfast.

It took another two days travel to reach the heart of the forest. Location wise it was no where near the center, but the magic was so thick there it near sparked across his skin, the trees so old and tall they blocked out the sun. Yet though the sky was not visible, the forest around them was lit by something unseen, so bright they could have traveled on during the night if they had wished to.

The fact that the forest was not only surviving but thriving with a giant fire-breathing reptile residing there had Tobirama understandably baffled. If it weren’t for the otherwise in-explainable force they were making steady ground towards, he wouldn’t have believed it to be the right place at all.

But even Madara had begun to sense the energy, every so often shaking himself with furrowed brows at the odd sensation. So further in they went, climbing over twisted roots and pushing past plants that had grown well over three times the expected size - making Tobirama more than thankful for the unusual lacking fauna population. Dealing with a fifty pound squirrel or a two ton bear weren’t exactly up there on his bucket list.

Early afternoon on the third day, Madara held out a hand to stop him without warning. When Tobirama sent him a sharp look he merely pointed at a low hanging branch, gesturing towards where his hawk sat staring off beyond the trees ahead.

They crept up close, discovering the forest opened up to a clearing. In the center sat a giant stump, several men tall at its highest and far too wide to measure by sight alone. The clearing around it was bare of trees, instead filled with wildflowers and splattered with berry bushes, a sea of color surrounding the umber brown bark that almost seemed alive despite obviously being long dead.

This was the source of the magic, the heart of the thrumming woods. He had little doubt that the stump was the dragon’s den.

His suspicion grew stronger when he spotted the hunter. Two of them, as a matter of fact, communicating through hand signals he couldn’t fully make out from their hiding spot in the tree line.

Madara already had his weapon in hand, a gunbai previously strapped to his back that was no doubt usually meant to fan his flames. He raised a single brow at the odd choice even as he pulled a scroll out of his pack, running a finger over the seals to activate them and pull out his staff. Not his choice weapon, but without a natural water source it would take too much energy to use that element efficiently in battle. A blunt bit of sturdy wood could knock most people out with enough force; the fact that it was a conduit of its own only made it even more useful, giving him the option of earth magic if it became needed.

Sneaking up on the hunters proved easy, and one went down in an instant when Tobirama cracked his skull open with a swift strike. It was a bit of bad luck that Madara didn’t manage the same, Tobirama turning around to find him struggling against his opponent, fan against blade, the elemental baring his teeth as they pushed against each other to see who would falter first.

Not wanting to too obviously steal his thunder, if only because he’d never hear the end of it, Tobirama called to the plants around him using the earth conduit embedded in his staff. Such magic wasn’t his strength, but it bent to his will with a little effort, roots tangling around the hunter’s feet to give his companion the advantage.

The resulting victorious and near feral grin on Madara’s face as he stood triumphant sent an odd shiver down his spine, and Tobirama looked away quickly to not have to analyze the feeling further.

Checking the bodies was a necessary evil, needing to find whatever magical item they’d used to track the dragon. Stolen magic, if his gut was right, and even knowing the amulet might be useful to him didn’t stop Tobirama from snapping it to pieces. Nothing was worth using magic taken by force, ripped from the user’s body, a part of them lost forever. He knew all too well what it felt like to lose parts of himself, but at least his were lost to the greater stream by choice.

With the threat dealt with, their mission of sorts was complete. Madara seemed ready to leave immediately, leaning against his gunbai, head tilted back to watch his hawk circling above them.

But something gave Tobirama pause. A familiar thrill down his spine. The urge to discover, smoldering curiosity, still muted as every emotion was to him but trying its best to tempt him anyway.

Scientific discoveries had lost their flair to him years ago. All his hobbies had fallen to the wayside, more victims of his sensing magic. Interest sapped out of him, leaving him to wander aimless and hoping to stumble upon a purpose once more.

A dragon lived here. A dragon. Creatures that had went into hiding centuries ago, almost abandoned to legend by most since so few living had ever seen one. Just inside the stump. And it begged to be discovered.

“What are you doing, mage?”

Madara sounded baffled, almost concerned, but Tobirama paid him no mind. Instead he wandered around the stump, finding the part with the lowest height and judging the best way to climb it.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Just a minute.” The first few feet were easy, though the sputtering behind him was rather distracting. He ignored all of Madara’s spewed protests, slipping and cursing as he caught himself once more, pulling himself up further.

The last step, last foot of bark, had his heart beating fast. Hands shaking with excitement. One of the original magic users, one of the very beings that had given the earth and all the races therein magic, created the greater stream that connected so much of the world. Just beyond this last foot of bark, a dragon-

It wasn’t there.

He stopped, halfway pulled up on top of the stump. Blinked unbelieving at the empty ring of just more grass, just more flowers.

No dragon. No reptile of any sort. And nothing to suggest anything had ever lived there.

“Are you coming down sometime today or not?”

“It’s not here.” He whispered the words, only vaguely aware he’d done so, flooded with disappointment. Swallowing it back the best he could, he leaned back far enough to look down at his companion. “It’s not here, Madara. The dragon. Nothing is.”

“Then hurry up! I’m tired of eating granola and berries, get down here so we can leave!”

“Alright, I’ll be down in a second, don’t set anything-”

The ground shook violently, cutting him off. It was enough to throw him off balance, scrambling to find purchase but unsuccessful as he was pitched backwards off the stump.

His back hit something hard though it wasn’t the ground. The groan of protest and steadying arms around his waist clued him in, though his mind was quick to focus on something much more important than the fact that Madara had saved him a nasty fall.

The ground wasn’t shaking. The stump was. Bark peeling away from the dirt and grass around it, as if the roots were digging themselves up, leaving deep groves in its wake.

Only once a massive snout appeared, one giant eye rolling about until it spotted them, did it finally click.

“Dragon,” Madara breathed in awe behind him.

“Technically, a lung dragon, but yes.” His voice was pitifully small as he took in the creature towering over them, the branch-like knotted horns atop its head, the lack of wings at its sides. The way its scales clacked together as it shook itself, the ground rumbling and forcing the both of them to shift their weight with it. It sounded like bamboo in the wind, like the wooden wind chimes the elders in his home village had been so fond of.

Neither of them moved. Tobirama found himself holding his breath as the dragon’s eye moved over and passed them, its head moving up and down as it sniffed the air about the clearing. Madara’s hands tightened around his waist when its shadow fell over them, though it shifted soon after, focusing in on the two corpses laying still on the ground nearby.

The cry it made when it sniffed the bodies went straight to Tobirama’s heart, eyes falling closed against the mournful sound, throat tight. It pitched lower as the dragon scooted its head towards the dead hunters, flowers and bushes sprouting forth where its nose touched the earth, the one big eye Tobirama could see full and wet.

A single tear fell down its scaly cheek as it turned towards them, long tongue flickering as if to taste the air. With its neck stretched out against the ground, it nudged forward closer to them until it was but an inch from Tobirama’s face.

He’d never been more frightened in his life, and yet he felt no ill will coming from this beast. Without even being able to communicate with it he could tell it didn’t mean them harm, though Madara didn’t seem to be as convinced as him, a low whimper escaping him that he would no doubt deny later.

After a few moments of stillness, nothing but the gentle breeze moving about them, the dragon inched forward to nudge Tobirama once - and the force of magic that shot through him at that single touch nearly brought him to his knees, left gasping and clutching at his chest when the dragon pulled away with a pleased shake of its body.

It trumped on off to another side of the clearing, stretching and shaking once more while Tobirama all but gawked at it from where he knelt on the ground. Then the dragon flopped itself back down, the force shaking the trees and sending Madara yelping to his bottom, both of them staring at the ancient being that once again resembled nothing more than a giant stump.

“What...just happened?” Madara’s confusion was understandable, but it hardly registered. Tobirama was too dazed at the moment, too busy running an inner analysis of all the things he could feel, all the parts of him that had been lost suddenly slotted back into place.

“It healed me.” He sounded small, felt small, compared to such a being, and it took several minutes for either of them to recover enough to be on their way once more, looking over their shoulders until the inconspicuous stump fell out of sight behind the trees.

By the time they made it to town a little less than a week later, it still didn’t seem real. After all the time spent as less than, being fully himself again was almost overwhelming, mind whirling away with the storm of thoughts around what had happened to them.

“You know, there are probably more out there.” Tobirama eyed the man at his side in his periphery as they entered the local inn, the burn of curiosity coming back like an old friend. “More dragons. More hunters as well.”

Madara’s frown didn’t have a hint of displeasure in it, huffed breath more a show than anything else as he headed straight for the bar, waving down the tender to bring them their first hot meal in weeks. “If that’s an invitation, mage, it’s a poor one. Gonna have to do better than that.”

They both knew he didn’t. Not after what they’d seen, the benevolent majesty that had shown itself to them, the creature powerful enough to shatter the trees around it and crush them - that had mourned the passing of those who would have done it harm, as if their deaths had torn into its heart.

If protecting such a creature hadn’t been reason enough to travel together before, it was more than enough now. And without even discussing it they left town together the next day, originally meaning to part ways but now set on the same path.

He might have never considered traveling with a fire elemental before, used to being alone after all his years as a vagabond. Madara was certainly an odd choice for a companion as well, quick tempered and full to the brim with snark. But Tobirama realized quite quickly that he didn’t mind the company all that much, feeling at easy with another person poking at the campfire, another pair of boots beating the dirt down as they tracked another rumor across country.

And if there just so happened to be other reasons keeping him at Madara’s side, other interests beyond scientific discovery, it would hardly be Tobirama’s fault he found himself falling for the man who had dragged him out on his adventure - and had inadvertently saved him by doing so.

#MadaTobi #madara #tobirama #fanfiction #mywriting #commissions

[purrincess-chat]

The Fate of Miss Fortune CH1

I’m finally getting around to posting this!! I’ve had the idea for over a year, and I started working on this chapter about a year ago I’d say. I’ve been holding onto it for so long, and commissioning art of it gave me the push to finish this chapter. I’m very excited for this story! It’s going to be an emotional ride, so I hope you all buckle your seatbelts and take it with me. Shouts out to @learningthomas and @trueblue1999 for betaing!

Read on AO3

Chapter One

“There be tales of the most fearsome pirate ever to sail the seas. Sunk o’er a hundred vessels and taken the lives of countless men. A captain and crew so bloodthirsty that no sailor ‘as e’en the slightest chance of survivin’ should they be unlucky enough to cross canons with ‘em.” It wasn’t uncommon for tales such as this to pass around the room of nearly every port bar from one sailor to the next. Legends and tales were how many passed the time, each seemingly more far-fetched than the last, though many stories, if taken to their roots, were actually based in truth that became victim to drunken embellishment.

“I seen ‘em with me own two eyes. Captain Ladybug ‘o the Coksinelle and ‘is crew took down a royal navy ship ‘fore tha poor chaps could load their powder. Biggest bunch o’ men I ever did see. Could rip the neck right off a navy cap’ains shoul’ers,” The man continued, a small crowd of similarly grimy and roasted men hanging onto every word in awe. All save for one.

“There’s a problem with your story, mate.” Heads swiveled to the smug mop of blond hair seated a few seats down at the bar, the telltale French naval coat with the sleeves ripped off and black hat could only be the mark of one pirate: Captain Chat Noir.

The night was humid and the air inside the bar hung stagnant as Chat Noir loaned an ear to the scrappy drunkard’s tale from his seat. He’d heard every story passed by mouth, and there was only one pirate on the waters that each of them referred to. The most famous pirate in the world, and coincidentally the one who set him on his own path to freedom.

Ladybug.

Most of the stories were true, though many details were often lost in translation, but Chat took it upon himself to keep an ear out for sightings of the elusive captain that he spent his days chasing in hopes of someday actually succeeding in his pursuit. Which, unfortunately, forced him to suffer through tales such as these in vain hopes that he might gain any new information, and more often than not, he came up empty as many pigheaded pirates twisted the stories to better suit their own egos.

“What’d ya say, chum?” He cocked a brow, standing in attempts to seem more intimidating, though his rum-induced stagger killed some of his bite. “Ye got a problem with my story?”

“Parts of it,” Chat stated, taking a swig from his mug and setting it on the counter.

“Do go on then,” The man urged.

“For starters, if no man has any chance of survival when confronted with this ruthless captain, then how are you here to tell the tale?” He began, standing to face the group all adorned with the same skeptical and disgruntled expressions. “Secondly, Ladybug is captain of the ship Coccinelle. It’s French given the captain’s roots and translates to ladybug, the name said dreadful captain has come to be known by. Thirdly, Captain Ladybug and crew are all bloodthirsty for naval ships specifically and tend to avoid merchants and other pirate ships which is why I forgive you for missing my last and arguably most important point: Captain Ladybug as well as the entire crew are all women.”

Loud, mocking laughter filled the surrounding area, something Chat had grown used to at this point, and he did his best to suppress an eye roll. Pirates were just as blind to the strength of women as naval officers. Turns out men were all the same no matter what colors they sailed under, which made the next sequence of events all the more predictable.

“You’re drunk, mate! No crew o’ women could sail a vessel all by their onesies.” One man laughed.

“You’re right, my apologies. I should have known better than to waste my breath educating you disgusting chauvinist pigs as you’re all incapable of any form of intelligent thought outside of lifting your mugs to your lips,” He said with a taunting grin, slapping a silver coin down on the bar. “Nino, pull Kim away from his girlfriends. We’re leaving.”

“Aye, captain,” Nino said with a nod, though he shot Chat a disappointed, yet unsurprised frown as if to say, “Can’t we enjoy one night out without you starting shit?”

“Oi, what’d you jus’ call me?” The first man demanded, reaching for the bottle on the counter. “You lookin’ for trouble, mate?”

“No, truthfully I’m on a quest to find that said fearsome female pirate from your entertaining, albeit horribly incorrect, tale, and I haven’t got the time to sit around listening to egotistical little worms talk themselves up,” He stated with a shrug, and Nino rolled his eyes.

“Here we go again,” His first-mate mumbled with a sigh, reaching for his cutlass as the man sprang at Chat with a growl.

The bar erupted into a drunken mosh-pit, fists flying as fast as insults as several inebriated men joined the fray just for the hell of it. Kim attempted in vain to entice his throng of women to stay, shooting a glare to his captain when they all fled, and Chat easily dodged his assailant’s fist, knocking him over the back of the head with his elbow and rendering him unconscious. Nino tossed another man over a table, stepping closer to his captain and shaking his head.  

“What?” Chat asked innocently.

“For once I’d like to enjoy a couple beers without the evening dissolving into a fist fight,” He chided, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, and I’d like to get laid,” Kim growled, stalking over. He grabbed another man who charged toward them and punched him square in the jaw.

“Let’s just go,” Chat said glumly, sulking toward the door.

“Ivan!” Nino called as their large brute of a friend fought off three men at once. “We’re leaving.”

Ivan shrugged and dropped his hold on his victims, leaving them in a daze as he casually sauntered out after his captain and crew. One convenient aspect of bar fights were that most individuals were too drunk and fixated on their brawl to realize when they slipped out, even as Chat pickpocketed the man who started it all on his way out. He shoved his hands into his pockets with a sigh as they made their way down the street toward the docks. Kim sulked several paces ahead of them, griping about losing yet another potential ménage à trois while Ivan patted his shoulder sympathetically. Nino eyed their captain out of the corner of his eye, pursing his lips to hide his frown.

“Another dead end then?” He asked, cocking a brow, and Chat averted his gaze. “How long do you intend to chase her?”

“As long as it takes to find her- the rest of my life, if I have to,” Chat said solemnly.

“You sure are hellbent on this booty call,” He replied, tensing when Chat shot him a glare. “Sorry but that’s what most of the crew thinks.”

“I’m not after her for sex. She saved my life, and I just want to see her again, no matter how briefly,” He said softly, and Nino shifted his gaze to his feet, biting his lip.

“You know you’re my best mate, and I’d die for you, but you can’t keep blue-balling Kim every time you don’t get information you want,” He said, offering him a small smile and prompting a cheeky grin and a chuckle from Chat.

“I’m not so worried about him. He still thinks I don’t know what he and Max get up to in the supply room, but I suppose in the interest of keeping things amicable between us I’ll do him this favor,” He said, whistling over the two women standing on the corner and tossing them a small pouch of gold coins. “The one in the red coat could use a little pick-me-up.”

Their eyes widened as they turned their payment over in their hands, excited giggles passing their lips as they skipped down the hill and grabbed Kim by the collar. Chat sauntered onto the dock toward the ship followed by Ivan and Nino, and Nathaniel hopped off the railing as they approached, standing at attention as the captain set foot on deck.

“Nothing unusual to report, sir. The rest of the crew is still out in town. Shall I round them up?” He said dutifully, but Chat waved him away.

“Let them enjoy the night. We’ll set out in the morning,” He said, pushing the door open to his cabin. “Resume your post.”

“Aye, captain.”

Chat hung his hat on the hook and ruffled his hair, a sigh passing through his lips as he leaned over his map littered with pins and threads that documented every location sailors reported seeing her in a vain attempt to discover her pattern, but he’d had no such luck. So many times he’d come so close to finding her only to lose the trail at the last moment. She was surprisingly elusive, much to his dismay. It had been three years since he’d last seen her in person, the night he asked to join her crew, but she only sailed with women. He’d been crushed by her rejection as he’d spent months hunting her down just to ask that question, but now he sought after her for a new reason.

She was the most magnificent woman he’d ever met with eyes as blue as the sea and hair as dark as the night sky. He longed to see her again and memorize every detail of her face even if she never held any desire for him… Perhaps his crew were right. Maybe he was running a fool’s errand, but he refused to give up. Not after all of this. He trailed his fingers along the red strings with a pensive frown before leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up.

Nights like those were exhausting, and sometimes Chat wondered if he’d ever see her again if he had to keep relying on such inconsistent tales. He closed his eyes painting the image of her face in his mind so that he wouldn’t forget a single detail. A girl like her was worth chasing to the ends of the earth, and soon he lulled himself to sleep with thoughts of their reunion.

***

“Captain!” Chat jerked awake, drawing his gun and pointing it in Max’s face instinctively before releasing a breath and returning it to its holster. He glanced out the window where the first cracks of sunlight were peeking out over the horizon.

“What?” He asked sourly, rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry to wake you, sir, but I have someone with information that might interest you,” Max said, and Chat’s head snapped to face him in an instant.

Chat followed on Max’s heels intently as he led the way to the library with Ivan, Nino, and Theo in tow. He kicked open the door, startling the librarian inside into dropping the books he was carrying. The man straightened his glasses and squared his shoulders, though his eyes widened in fear as they approached.

“You! You have information regarding a pirate named Ladybug?” Chat demanded, leaning into his face.

“I’m not inclined to say,” He said, shrinking back a little and startling once more when Chat pointed a gun in his face. “Okay, okay! My younger sister recently joined her crew a-about a week ago when she was in port. Said they were making a quick stop south of Puerto Rico then setting sail toward Bermuda before she left, but she swore me to secrecy!”

“And you’re sure it was Ladybug?” Chat quirked a brow, and the man nodded frantically.

“I saw her colors myself, and my sister specifically mentioned that this pirate sails exclusively with women which matches up with stories I’ve heard,” He said, and Chat lowered his gun.

“What’s your name?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Jalil, sir,” He said, adjusting his glasses with a shaky hand.

“Nino, Ivan, bring Jalil aboard. He’s coming with us, and if his information proves false then we’ll find a nice island to maroon him on. Max do you still remember how to get to the one infested with cannibals?” He snapped his fingers, and Jalil paled, resisting only minimally as Nino and Ivan lifted him up and carried him back to the ship.

“How long do you anticipate it will take us to reach Bermuda from here?” Chat asked as they walked, and Max tapped his chin.

“About three days if the winds are favorable,” He replied, and Chat nodded thoughtfully.

“Then there’s not a minute to lose. Nathaniel!” Chat called as they boarded, and the redhead stood at attention. “Round up the crew. We’re setting sail.”

“Even Kim?” Nathaniel’s nose wrinkled.

“Do you want to man the guns if we get attacked?” Chat asked pointedly, and Nathaniel groaned, sulking off to retrieve their gunman from his tryst. “Max, get me a heading! We’ve got a Ladybug to catch.”

***

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this fired up,” Nino remarked a couple nights later as Chat peered through his telescope.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a lead,” He said, lowering it and glancing over at his first mate.

“Do you really think we’ll find her?” Nino cocked a brow, and Chat’s eyes narrowed into a glare.

“For the librarian’s sake, we better,” He said with a twisted grin, and Nino gave him a look.

“You and I both know you’re not that cruel, mate.” He smirked, and Chat turned back to scan the dark water.

“I know, but he doesn’t, so it’s fun to watch the color drain from his face,” He said darkly, and Nino threw his head back with a laugh.

“Maybe you are that cruel.” He patted his shoulder.

“Ship sighted to the east, captain!” Nathaniel called from the crow’s nest, and Chat whipped his telescope out as the crew rushed to his side.

“Is it her captain?” Ivan asked. “Is it Ladybug?”

Chat squinted at the colors flying, a semblance of a smile twitching on his lips as he snapped his scope shut. “Douse the lamps and ready a boat.”

“It is her!” The phrase passed excitedly around the deck as his men rushed around frantically to carry out his orders.

“Do you think you can catch up to her in this thing?” Nino asked as Chat climbed into the small rowboat and took hold of an oar.

“The main sail is raised, and she’s just coasting. Her crew has likely gone to bed for the night,” He said. “Raise ours and follow at a distance. If she spots us, she might run. You’re in charge until I get back, Nino.”

“Aye, captain.” Nino nodded curtly as Ivan lowered the boat. “Oi, Chat! Good luck, mate.”

Chat tipped his hat as the boat hit the water, and he unlatched the ropes before beginning his trip. Fortunately the night was still and the waters calm as he paddled, and within a half hour, he was close enough to see her standing at the wheel. Her hair was longer than the last time he’d seen her, and his pulse quickened as he set the oars down gently so as to not make a sound and tied the rope to his waist loosely before beginning his climb up.

He peeked up at her from under the railing, a small smile curling on his lips as he watched her studying her compass, occasionally glancing up at the stars. Her cheekbones were more pronounced than last time, and his memory did her beauty no justice. He could have stared all night, but he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t speak at least one word to her, so he climbed up, tying his rope off quietly before making his move.

“Greetings, m’lady! I hope you haven’t missed me too much.” His voice caught her off guard which was something even the lowest swabbie on her deck knew never to do. She spun around as his leg hiked over the railing, but before his boot could touch the deck, she tugged the loose rope hanging from the mast that laid at his feet and dragged him into the air.  He yelped in surprise as he found himself hanging upside down and face-to-face with Ladybug’s unamused scowl. “Have I ever told you, you turn my world upside down?”

“Captain Chat Noir. How many times need I tell you that men are forbidden from setting foot on my vessel unless they wish to decorate it with their blood?” She stated bluntly with a small sigh.

“If we’re counting honestly, this is only the second time I’ve tried,” He said pointedly.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” Ladybug retorted with a bored frown, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Because I brought you a gift,” He replied with a cheeky grin, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small jewelry box. “I stole them from a duchess in Spain.”

“How romantic,” She said sarcastically, lifting the lid to reveal a pair of diamond earrings.

“A beautiful woman deserves beautiful things.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes, snapping the lid shut. “You know, you should really pay attention to the stories people are telling about you. There are a lot of details that people get wrong.”

“I don’t particularly care what others say about me,” She said with a shrug. “I didn’t become a pirate for the fame or glory.”

“Me either.” He said, and she held his gaze for a long moment. “I’ve been looking all over for you, ya know.”

“So I’ve heard,” She said with an amused smirk, looking him up and down as if she were sizing him up. “Captain Chat Noir, the pirate on a desperate quest for a piece of ass.”

She chuckled as his eyes narrowed into a glare. “That’s not true!”

“Now who needs to pay attention to their stories?” She asked teasingly, leaning down into his face and causing his breath to hitch when she traced his jaw with her finger. “So why do you spend your days tracking me, Chat Noir?”

“Because you set me free and I am in your debt,” He said gently, pouring every ounce of sincerity and tenderness into his expression, though such feats proved hard with the blood rushing to his head. “And I long to know something.”

Ladybug cocked a hip to the side, leaning against the rope and quirking a brow. “What would that be?”

“Four years ago you attacked my naval fleet. Killed all of my men and sank every last vessel to the bottom of the ocean. You saw me floating on a piece of drift wood and chose to let me live,” He recounted. “Why?”

“Why what?” She shrugged. “Why did I sink you fleet? Because I hate the navy. Why didn’t I kill you?” She paused for a moment and pursed her lips. “You were just a kid playing captain, and I don’t murder children. I do have some sense of decency, you know.”

“I know. It’s one of the many reasons I admire you.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes, flicking the wheel sharply and causing the sail to shift. She released her hold on the rope, effectively flinging Chat into the water then paced over to the railing and leaned down with an amused glint in her eye as Chat resurfaced.

“Farewell, Chat Noir. Until the next time you find me.” She waved.

Chat watched in awe as she retrieved her sword and sliced through his rope before swimming back to his boat. He laid on the floor, panting and adorned with the widest grin. Ladybug remembered him. She knew that he was searching for her. She smelled like flowers.

Ladybug returned to her post at the wheel, restating their course before pulling out the box of earrings Chat had given her. She eyed them for a moment, trailing her fingers over the gems before snapping it shut and looping a rope around one of the rungs then heading below deck.

“What was all that ruckus?” Alya asked, meeting her halfway on the stairs.

“Just a dazed little kitten who tried to sneak on board,” She said nonchalantly with almost a hint of boredom.

“Chat Noir?” Alya’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You’ve been giving him the slip for years. He finally caught up to us?”

“I let him,” Ladybug admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s no fun to let him chase us if he gives up, so I suppose I’ll let him ‘catch’ me from time to time to keep his spirits up.”

“You are wicked, lady. That poor boy follows you all over the world because he fancies you, and you dangle just out of his reach,” Alya laughed, stopping short as Ladybug tossed her the earring box.

“Not me. He got those just for you. Said so himself. I think it’s you he’s after,” She said, passing her down to the lower deck as Alya opened the box with an eye roll.

“Most women would be floored if a man brought them a pair like this,” Alya commented with a prying tone Ladybug knew all too well. “We raid countless ships with gorgeous earrings, yet you’re so attached to the ones you’ve got.”

Ladybug touched them thoughtfully, pausing at the base of the stairs for a moment before turning back over her shoulder.

“They’re lucky.”

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir #marinette dupain-cheng #ladybug #pirate au #my writing

[inkognito97]

Healer

The whole mission had been doomed from the very beginning. Anakin had experienced a bad feeling as soon as he and his Master had entered their transportation craft. Despite Qui-Gon’s assurance that it would be a quick and easy mission – it was their first mission after a time-out at the temple – everything had gone right to hell. Not only had the negotiation mission been a ruse, specially crafted for Qui-Gon and Anakin, but the two Jedi had walked right into the trap of an old enemy. Xanatos Du'Crion former second Padawan of Qui-Gon, had actually managed to capture his old Master and his successor and it hadn’t been pleasant. Anakin had been forced to work in an underground mine, it had been hard and tiring work and if you could not live up to a certain standard, you were either beaten into a bloody pulp or killed the very instant. The former was more often the case, because this way the guards could have their fun, not only with delivering the beating, but during watching the workers struggle with their work afterwards. Anakin hated them. But not enough to enter a dark path. Besides, Xanatos would have been a fate much worse. The raven haired man had separated the Jedi team as soon as possible. The two Jedi had shared the same cell, but while Anakin had done hard labor, Qui-Gon had been tortured by the fallen Jedi personally. Usually the Master had been fetched before sunrise and only brought back deep in the night, usually bleeding, limping or even unconscious. The days were hard on the long haired Jedi, who got weaker and weaker with every session. The blonde Padawan had known that his Master would not survive much longer and he had known that they had to escape soon. Which is why he had taken the opportunity – even though it had been a very small and very risky one – and fled with the brown haired man. The blonde had silently thanked the Force that he had been build so tall and strongly, it had made the task of carrying his Master a little easier. Not by much though, for guards were everywhere once the alarm had rung and the terrain was tricky. That and his days in prison and doing hard work without much nutritious food, had weakened Anakin as well.

A pained groan escaped the unconscious Jedi Master when Anakin accidentally stumbled. He thankfully did not lose his grip on the man that was draped over his back. Only Qui-Gon’s head had moved a little, causing some of his brown strands to fall into Anakin’s peripheral line of vision. “Sorry Master,” mumbled the slightly smaller Jedi, while continuing onwards. He had escaped the cursed facility a long time ago and was now running in relatively save terrain. It looked like a forest of some sorts, but what bothered the Jedi, was that there did not seem to be any animals. Or perhaps they were just too scared of them, even though that didn’t explain why he could not feel them. Then again, it could very well be a side effect of the Force suppressants he had been injected with. 

What seemed to the senior Padawan like an eternity, he finally had reached the end of the forest. Near the edge, Anakin had even heard a few birds rustling in the leaves. He had not been able to feel them though, so his guess seemed to be quite right. With a lot of struggle, did he move forward, never letting his mind wander too much. The tall man he was carrying seemed to get heavier with every step he took. Anakin was panting and his heart was beating rapidly. He knew he would not get much farther. Had all been in vain? The blonde had seen the tree’s root too late and he landed face first on the dusty ground. He was not the only one who let out a pained grunt. Qui-Gon was heavy on top of him and since he was unconscious, he could not even take some of his weight from Anakin’s frame. The blonde struggled and muttered a few huttese curses, some of them would have earned him his Master’s disapproval and probably an extra round of sparring and meditation, but Anakin didn’t care right now. He just cared of the real danger that was lurking behind them and the body draped over his.  A snapping sound caught the Padawan’s attention. He only felt a tiny flicker in the Force. But he knew that something or someone was in front of him. His eyes desperately searched his surroundings and they only stopped at a certain point, where they could make out a dark figure looming.  “Help,” there was no bad intent coming from this person. Anakin wasn’t sure if it was because of his dulled senses, or because the person had no ill will, but he hoped it was the latter. “Over here!” The person stopped and turned around, probably to face them, but he or she didn’t move further. “Please,” begged the blonde, “We need help. My… father is injured and needs medical assistance.” Whatever the reason, it caught the unknown person’s attention. Immediately the being came running over and before the Padawan realized it, the unknown figure was leaning over him and his Master. He blinked. The stranger was obviously male and he looked relatively wealthy and well groomed. His short cooper hair was well taken care of and even his beard was neat. Blue-green eyes were scanning over the two men on the ground, before they settled on the taller Jedi’s frame. “I am going to lift your… father,” there was doubt in the man’s accented voice, “off you. Will you be able to stand and walk on your own then?” “I… I think so, yes.” The stranger hummed in reply, while carefully lifting the long haired Jedi up. He struggled a bit, then Anakin felt the barest shifting in the Force and in the next moment, Qui-Gon was securely on the stranger’s shoulders. Now it was Anakin’s turn, who felt as if a whole mountain had been lifted from his shoulders, quite literately. “Quick now, you are still being followed,” said the stranger and began walking in the direction from which he had come. “Wait,” panted the senior Padawan, while limping to keep up with the older male, “You haven’t told me your name yet.” Blue-green eyes sparkled with hidden mirth, “Neither have you.” “I am Anakin… Jinn and this is my father, Qui-Gon Jinn.”  There was something in the other’s eyes, when he replied, “I didn’t know Jedi were allowed to have children.” His whole posture and aura changed and this time Anakin was actually able to feel it. It sent shivers down his spine. “I do not appreciate being lied to. I can accept secrecy, but I will not tolerate dishonesty.” Was it just the light or did the stranger’s eyes shimmer gold for the briefest of moments? Whatever it had been, Anakin decided to be more cautious. His instincts told him to grab Qui-Gon and to make a run for it, but his body protested at the mere thought alone and something that felt suspiciously like the Force, urged him to stay. “My name is…” he took a deep breath and silently prayed that he would not regret this later, “Anakin Skywalker, I am a Jedi Padawan and this is indeed Qui-Gon Jinn, my Master.” “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” there was a small grin on his features. “My turn. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sith Healer, at your service.” Anakin stopped dead in his tracks. “You are a Sith?” “Guilty,” the copper haired man grinned. “But I am foremost a healer.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” He rolled his eyes and made an exaggerated sigh, “My duty to those who need medical attention, comes always first. My duty to the Sith comes second. I have sworn an oath as a healer and I will not break that oath… it is all I have. ” It sounded too good to be true, but Anakin had no other option but to trust and believe in Kenobi’s words. He knew he would not be able to outrun a Sith, especially not in this condition and with Qui-Gon unconscious. It was simply not possible. “Where are we going?” he asked instead. “I have a medical facility right behind that hill. Your Master will be taken care of then… perhaps it will be better if I look after him personally,” he glanced briefly at the limping Padawan beside him, “You need to be looked at as well. That and a bath might do wonders.” The blonde blinked. The Sith was actually bothered more by his appearance and smell than the fact that he was a Jedi at his mercy? This was indeed a strange world. Then again, from the man’s look, it was understandable. His black tunic and grey sash were clean and spotless. The cape that was red on the inside, was attached to the shoulder and chest armor that did not look as if it had seen any real battle. There was a lose leather belt around the man’s waist and strapped to it were countless pouches and even some devices Anakin could not identify. Partly hidden by the sash, was a holster that was strapped to the Sith’s right leg, it contained a silver-black cylinder like object, a lightsaber. “Instead of focusing on me, you should turn your attention to yourself and the ground you are walking on.” It was the most polite way of saying ‘Stop staring’ that Anakin had ever heard.  “Sorry,” he mumbled, more out of instinct than anything else. The Sith sent him a surprisingly warm look and in silence, they walked onward.

Anakin gaped openly at the building that stood proud in all his grayish-white glory, between the forest and a hilltop. Obi-Wan had patiently explained that a large city was hidden behind the mountains and that a save path winded its way between two cliffs. The citizens and villagers could travel safely to his medical facility. Anakin guessed that there was no other healers around, which is why the villagers came here in the first place. “Home sweet home,” mumbled the Sith once he and his limping companion had stepped through the automatic bi-parting sliding doors made of transparent material. Anakin somehow doubted that it was glass, he expected something stronger. “AI-72, prepare the treatment room two and make sure that patient’s room number 13 is ready,” commanded Kenobi. Immediately a droid that had lounged near the reception, sprung to life.

“Yes Sir,” the black spherical droid answered and hovered away, most likely to do as told.

Obi-Wan followed the droid, he was still carrying the tall Jedi Master on his back. He had to admit, that he was quite impressed with the young Jedi, who was obviously still a Padawan. He could feel that the young one’s grip on the Force was dimmed and weakened, yet he had still managed to carry his Master to safety. And they WERE save here, as he had said, he was a healer before everything else.

Anakin had to blink against the bright light in the treatment room. The whole room was unexpected bright, then again, so where the halls of healing in the temple.

He watched how the Sith gently lowered his cargo on one of the operation tables. As soon as he had done so, two droids joined his side, one carried various instruments and devices, the other looked more human and seemed to be able to do operations on its own.

“I want you to check him for any internal injuries… scratch that, check his WHOLE body for damage, both inside and outside.” He turned to Anakin, “You look mostly fine, a few scratches as far as I can tell and perhaps a strained ankle from your fall. Nothing too serious. What YOU need, is rest, food and a bath, perhaps not in this order.”

Anakin knew this tone all too well. The healer back in the temple always used that with his Master, when the man was hovering over him.  “I am not going to leave him,” he protested.

The older male narrowed his eyes, “This was not a request.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and straightened himself to his full height. “I don’t care.”

For a moment the two males just stared at each other, challenging and waiting for the other one to look away first. It was Obi-Wan, who avoided his gaze first. He shrugged. “Very well then.”

Anakin was surprised that the healer had surrendered so easily. Too late did he realize that a third droid had entered the room without him noticing and before he could react, had it pushed a needle in his neck.

“Bastard,” gritted the Padawan out between clenched teeth.

Again the Sith only shrugged, “It was your choice.”

He was getting dizzy, Anakin’s whole world was spinning. Also, his vision was darkening around the edged. He stumbled forward, arm outstretched and desperately reaching for the healer, but to no avail. Kenobi simply took a step back, arms crossed over his chest and a bored and calculating expression on his bearded features. Then, the Padawan’s world seemed to tilt, but before he landed on the ground, the droid caught him.

“Procedure Alpha.2 should be enough,” said Kenobi in his accented voice, “When you are finished, bring him into room number 13, make sure he cannot escape or attack.”

The droid beeped in understanding and Anakin felt himself being lifted, wondering what was going to happen to him now, before his whole world went black. —————- When Anakin Skywalker finally came back to his senses, he was greeted by the worst headache he had ever suffered in his relatively short life. For a moment he was disoriented and he was left to wonder what had happened. Then, everything came back to him and in panic, he opened his eyes and tried to sit up, only to be stopped by chains that could obviously not be opened with the aid of the Force. Panic cursed through his system, but then an all too familiar voice caught his attention.

“It’s alright Padawan,” said Qui-Gon Jinn.

The blonde’s head wiped around and his eyes landed on his Master’s form. The taller and older male was smiling reassuringly at him and even though he was bandaged almost everywhere, he looked a lot better than before. Then Anakin’s eyes settled on the silent male, who was partly sitting on Qui-Gon’s bed and who held a bowl and a spoon in his hand.

“Master? You are alive?”

Qui-Gon chuckled, “It would seem so… and most likely only thanks to your quick thinking and to Obi-Wan’s healing abilities.“ The healer ducked his head. Anakin blinked. Obi-Wan, his Master had not said ‘Kenobi’ or ‘the Sith’, he had said Obi-Wan’.

“How long was I unconscious?”

“About twenty-four hours, perhaps a bit longer” answered the Sith.

“Obi-Wan told me that you gave him quite some trouble,” said Qui-Gon, but there was humor in his voice. He truly was on the way of getting back to health.

Immediately the blonde’s cheeks colored, “Yes, I mean… well… He IS a Sith!”

“He is a healer and a damn good one,” it was rare of the Jedi Master to speak positively of a healer. He, just as his Padawan, usually had a great dislike of healers and of healing facilities. So what was different now?

A moment of silence passed between the three Force users. Then, “Why am I chained to the hospital bed?”

“No particular reason,” the Sith said sarcastically, “You only destroyed one of my best droids and attacked me…”

“Oh,” he coughed in embarrassment, “Sorry about that.”

“Anakin,” the long haired Master’s voice was exhausted and perhaps a little bit desperate.

“I said I am sorry…”

Qui-Gon turned towards the healer, “The temple will pay for all expenses.”

Obi-Wan sighed, but bowed to his fate. “I will release you, when I am finished here.”

Only now did Anakin realize what the ginger haired male was doing. He had been feeding the older Jedi, whose arms were bandaged and trembling.

Qui-Gon, who had followed his apprentice’s gaze, said, “Nothing to worry about. Simply a side effect of Xanatos’ torture. Obi-Wan says it will pass in a few days.”

“Xanatos?” Obi-Wan cut in, “You don’t mean Xanatos Du’Crion, do you?”

“You know him?” asked Anakin.

Obi-Wan nodded and brought another spoon full of mush to his patient’s lips, who obediently opened his mouth. He slid the spoon in further, turned it and took it out again, leaving its content behind. It was clear from just looking at him work, that he had done that a lot more than just one or two times. He then wiped a bit of the mush from his patient’s moustache afterwards.

“That boy is a fool. He sought me out one or two times, begging me to take him as my apprentice… that boy has as much talent for healing as a bantha for dancing.” He scoffed, “I couldn’t turn him down when he asked for medical attention however. And every time I think he is gone for good, he returns.” He shook his head and gave the Jedi Master something to drink from a small flask that had rested nearby.

Qui-Gon swallowed the cool water. “So he has bothered you in the past?”

“Yes,” another spoon, “though I wonder about the connection he has with you…” he trailed off, leaving the decision to speak to the two Jedi.

“He was… he was my Padawan once.”

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding. “My first apprentice died, stabbed himself with a poisonous blade,” he shook his head, but there was something sad in his eyes, “That was the day I decided to become a healer.”

“A noble decision.”

The Sith shrugged, “I like to think that this was the Force’s way of bringing me back on the right path, away from the darkness, back on a lighter path.”

Whatever Qui-Gon wanted to reply, had to wait, because as soon as he had opened his mouth, another spoon full of fruity – it was surprisingly tasty – mush, was shoved inside. He glared at his healer, who seemed completely unfazed by it.

“Lord Sanarus?” a metallic voice asked from the doorframe. Anakin recognized the droid as AI-72, the droid from the reception.

“Don’t call me that,” snapped the Sith healer, before he continued in a much calmer tone, “What is it?”

“You have a visitor, Sir. It is…” it didn’t come any further in its explanation, because in an instant, it was pushed aside by the Force.

The two Jedi knew exactly to whom the approaching Force presence belonged and Obi-Wan knew as well. He calmly put away the bowl and stood up, brushing imaginary dust off of his clothes, before stepping towards Anakin’s bed. There he opened the locks on the chains, freeing the Jedi. When he straightened up again, another figure stood on the threshold.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to see you in this facility ever again,” Obi-Wan’s tone was calm, but there was a certain undertone to it that sent shivers down Anakin’s spine and his eyes had turned gold.

“Believe me when I say that I wouldn’t be here, unless it was not very important.”

“And what could be so important that you come barging in like a possessed man, destroying my property?” he tilted his head and rested his hands on his hips, suspiciously close to his lightsaber.

The raven haired male leaned against the doorframe, his cold eyes had darted between the two Jedi and then back to the older dark side user. “You have something that belongs to me and I want it back.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow in a challenging way, “And what would that be?”

“Two of my workers,” he looked pointedly at Anakin and Qui-Gon.

“Slavery is forbidden in this system and since they are not your slaves and therefore not your possession, they are free to leave whenever they like. If they get fired is another matter altogether.”

The raven haired male’s eyes narrowed and he took a threatening step forward. His right hand rested directly on the hilt of his lightsaber. “Those two are Jedi and my captives. I want them back and I want them now.”

To the Jedis’ surprise, did Obi-Wan only grin, “Jedi? Oh, you mean like the two Jedi, who were here on a negotiation mission, between the two clans behind the mountain border?”

“Don’t play coy with me, you know exactly that it was ME, who called for them.” Obi-Wan shrugged, “Prove it.”

Xanatos snarled in anger and his face was only inches away from the older males. Anakin and Qui-Gon briefly glanced at each other. They were witnessing a duel of dominance and they were not sure, who would win.

“It is your duty as a Sith to hand those Jedi over,” said Xanatos.

“One, IF I had to hand them over, then I certainly would not give them to you. Two, I could deal with them on my own, why would I need you and your ‘help’?” he scoffed at the last word, “And three, I don’t have to do anything. I am a healer and they have asked me for medical attention, therefore I am bound to help them. Not that you would understand what the words loyalty and honor mean.”

Xanatos’ eyes blazed in fury and he had his lightsaber halfway raised, when Obi-Wan made his move. Faster than any room’s occupants could look, he had a tight grip on his younger opponent’s wrist and with a well placed hit to the other’s elbow, a sickening crunch was heard. The raven haired man gasped in pain and clutched his arm, his lightsaber had fallen uselessly to the ground and one leather boot stood on it.

“I dare you to try that again, there are enough other weak points in your body and I know all of them,” Obi-Wan stood his ground.

Xanatos bared his teeth, but realization was clear in his cold and angry eyes. He knew that he was outmatched, especially without his lightsaber and with the other’s knowledge about the human anatomy.

“You will pay for that.” Obi-Wan simply opened his arms in a silent invitation, but Xanatos just sent him another hateful glance and turned tail, his lightsaber still under the healer’s boot. “He never deserved it anyway,” Obi-Wan mumbled and increased the pressure on the metal cylinder until a loud crack resonated in the room. When the ginger haired Sith stepped aside, the Jedi were able to see the sad remains of a functioning lightsaber, only the crystal seemed to be still in tact. Obi-Wan picked it up. “Is this Jedi property?” “The Jedi do not own red lightsaber crystals,” Anakin answered, still shocked from what he had just witnessed. He had never known his successor to be so submissive and to give in so easily. It had to mean that he truly feared Kenobi and if this were the case, things could get VERY ugly if they angered the healer. “Your loss,” Kenobi simply said and pocketed the crystal, before returning to his previous task. The air around him was still vibrating, but it was not as unpleasant and dangerous as before. —————– Anakin was surprised at the size and the openness of the facility. He would almost called it homely and cosy, but since he was talking about a medical station, he would NOT say that out aloud, ever. His Master was still in a final check up that Kenobi wanted to run after they had stayed for a couple of days and the Sith had forbidden Anakin from participating. He had mumbled something about hovering Jedi and their distracting emotions. Anakin was not sure if he had meant that seriously or in a sarcastic way, Kenobi was hard to read. Though Qui-Gon did NOT seem to have such problems, perhaps it was because he was an experienced Master and older. Then again, the Padawan HAD felt something between them and once more was he asking himself what exactly had happened in the time he had been unconscious. The sound of children’s laughter caught the young male’s attention and he quickly followed the commotion. He found himself in a large garden, the room reminded him a lot of the Room of a Thousand Fountains back in the temple. And to the Padawan’s surprise, there were children running around. Most of them had bandages, some looked a little too pale or a bit green and only a handful sat either in a wheelchair or were sleeping somewhere nearby. It was a merry and lively setting and the Padawan felt immediately influenced by the playing children’s joy. “The Living Force is strong here,” a baritone voice whispered behind him and Anakin had to admit that he flinched in surprise. He had not felt his Master approaching. “I wonder what they are doing here.” “They are patients,” an accented voice joined the conversation, “Most of them at least. Some simply like to visit.” The Sith stepped forward into the garden and it did not take long for him to get spotted. A high pitched squeak escaped one of the girls followed by a equally loud, “Obi-Wan,” and all hell broke loose. Faster than the Jedi had thought that the children could move, had they circled around the ginger haired male and all were trying to cling and to speak to him at once. Yet the Sith did not seem overwhelmed, he handled the situation with calmness and a smile on his lips. In this moment, the Sith looked like more a Jedi than a dark side user. “Master?” Anakin began, but when no form of acknowledgement came, he glanced to his right, where the tall man stood. Qui-Gon’s midnight blue eyes were resting on the scene before them. No, that was not right, noticed the Padawan. The older Jedi’s eyes were resting on Obi-Wan and only on him. The Sith chose this moment to look up as well and his ever changing blue-green eyes made contact with midnight blue ones. He was unguarded in this particular moment, no mask was covering his features or his Force presence and Qui-Gon’s heart suddenly beat faster. He couldn’t explain it what it was, not yet, but it felt pleasant and the tickling sensation in his stomach was quite welcome. It made him feel like a teenager again, even though he was not THAT old with his 43 years. He wondered how old Obi-Wan was. An almost shy smile appeared on the Sith’s features and he slowly turned back to the children, who were all competing for his attention and even though Qui-Gon wanted to stay here and watch the ginger haired man forever, he turned around and gave them their privacy. “Master!” The tone in which his title had been said, told Qui-Gon that he had been elsewhere with his mind and that Anakin had called him more than ones. “Forgive me Padawan, my focus was elsewhere,” namely on a walking sin that was called Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had the most handsome eyes the long haired man had ever seen. Strangely, Qui-Gon was always drawn to someone’s eyes first, it had also been so with Tahl, before she had made clear that they were both Jedi and therefore could NEVER be together. “And you always scold me, when I don’t pay attention,” the blonde pouted. “Of course I do, I am the Master after all,” he began to walk away from the happy scene and decided to return to his room. His legs were starting to protest and his stomach rebelled, he was hungry and he guessed that Anakin must be as well. The blonde sighed and let the topic drop, at least for now. “When will we leave?” “As soon as Obi-Wan deems us ready to leave. I have already contacted the Council and gave them my report, they too advised us to stay a little longer, but undoubtedly for other reasons.” “They want us to spy on Kenobi,” he concluded. A moment of hesitation, “Yes. But I won’t do it.” A groan escaped the younger male. “Master please,” he whined, “don’t defy the Council, not again.” It was not that he disliked Qui-Gon’s often rash decisions or that he actually liked the Council’s, but he was not very fond of the punishment they would receive. And as the man’s Padawan, he would be seen as partner in crime. “This is not about defying the Council, my VERY young student. This is about repaying the great favor Obi-Wan gave us.” “He is a Sith, Master,” it was only logic for the Council to want information from the Healer. “He saved both our lives and you should be more grateful,” his tone held no room for argument. “He did not have to help us as good as he did. Also, he could just have believed Xanatos’ words and handed us over.” From this perspective, Anakin could understand his Master’s decision. It didn’t mean that he had to like it. “I understand.” “Good, now let us return to our room, I’m getting tired.” ———— Anakin was surprised at the size and the openness of the facility. He would almost called it homely and cosy, but since he was talking about a medical station, he would NOT say that out aloud, ever. His Master was still in a final check up that Kenobi wanted to run after they had stayed for a couple of days and the Sith had forbidden Anakin from participating. He had mumbled something about hovering Jedi and their distracting emotions. Anakin was not sure if he had meant that seriously or in a sarcastic way, Kenobi was hard to read. Though Qui-Gon did NOT seem to have such problems, perhaps it was because he was an experienced Master and older. Then again, the Padawan HAD felt something between them and once more was he asking himself what exactly had happened in the time he had been unconscious. The sound of children’s laughter caught the young male’s attention and he quickly followed the commotion. He found himself in a large garden, the room reminded him a lot of the Room of a Thousand Fountains back in the temple. And to the Padawan’s surprise, there were children running around. Most of them had bandages, some looked a little too pale or a bit green and only a handful sat either in a wheelchair or were sleeping somewhere nearby. It was a merry and lively setting and the Padawan felt immediately influenced by the playing children’s joy. “The Living Force is strong here,” a baritone voice whispered behind him and Anakin had to admit that he flinched in surprise. He had not felt his Master approaching. “I wonder what they are doing here.” “They are patients,” an accented voice joined the conversation, “Most of them at least. Some simply like to visit.” The Sith stepped forward into the garden and it did not take long for him to get spotted. A high pitched squeak escaped one of the girls followed by a equally loud, “Obi-Wan,” and all hell broke loose. Faster than the Jedi had thought that the children could move, had they circled around the ginger haired male and all were trying to cling and to speak to him at once. Yet the Sith did not seem overwhelmed, he handled the situation with calmness and a smile on his lips. In this moment, the Sith looked like more a Jedi than a dark side user. “Master?” Anakin began, but when no form of acknowledgement came, he glanced to his right, where the tall man stood. Qui-Gon’s midnight blue eyes were resting on the scene before them. No, that was not right, noticed the Padawan. The older Jedi’s eyes were resting on Obi-Wan and only on him. The Sith chose this moment to look up as well and his ever changing blue-green eyes made contact with midnight blue ones. He was unguarded in this particular moment, no mask was covering his features or his Force presence and Qui-Gon’s heart suddenly beat faster. He couldn’t explain it what it was, not yet, but it felt pleasant and the tickling sensation in his stomach was quite welcome. It made him feel like a teenager again, even though he was not THAT old with his 43 years. He wondered how old Obi-Wan was. An almost shy smile appeared on the Sith’s features and he slowly turned back to the children, who were all competing for his attention and even though Qui-Gon wanted to stay here and watch the ginger haired man forever, he turned around and gave them their privacy. “Master!” The tone in which his title had been said, told Qui-Gon that he had been elsewhere with his mind and that Anakin had called him more than ones. “Forgive me Padawan, my focus was elsewhere,” namely on a walking sin that was called Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had the most handsome eyes the long haired man had ever seen. Strangely, Qui-Gon was always drawn to someone’s eyes first, it had also been so with Tahl, before she had made clear that they were both Jedi and therefore could NEVER be together. “And you always scold me, when I don’t pay attention,” the blonde pouted. “Of course I do, I am the Master after all,” he began to walk away from the happy scene and decided to return to his room. His legs were starting to protest and his stomach rebelled, he was hungry and he guessed that Anakin must be as well. The blonde sighed and let the topic drop, at least for now. “When will we leave?” “As soon as Obi-Wan deems us ready to leave. I have already contacted the Council and gave them my report, they too advised us to stay a little longer, but undoubtedly for other reasons.” “They want us to spy on Kenobi,” he concluded. A moment of hesitation, “Yes. But I won’t do it.” A groan escaped the younger male. “Master please,” he whined, “don’t defy the Council, not again.” It was not that he disliked Qui-Gon’s often rash decisions or that he actually liked the Council’s, but he was not very fond of the punishment they would receive. And as the man’s Padawan, he would be seen as partner in crime. “This is not about defying the Council, my VERY young student. This is about repaying the great favor Obi-Wan gave us.” “He is a Sith, Master,” it was only logic for the Council to want information from the Healer. “He saved both our lives and you should be more grateful,” his tone held no room for argument. “He did not have to help us as good as he did. Also, he could just have believed Xanatos’ words and handed us over.” From this perspective, Anakin could understand his Master’s decision. It didn’t mean that he had to like it. “I understand.” “Good, now let us return to our room, I’m getting tired.”

_____________

He was being shaken vigorously, as if the person waking him was panicked. “Just five more minutes,” he groaned and was about to turn over, when an all too familiar accented voice spoke loudly into his ear. “You might not have five more minutes, stand up!” Even the man’s usually calm tone was panicked and it caught the Padawan’s attention. Anakin was immediately wide awake and he sat up, almost colliding with the Sith standing over him. He noticed that Obi-Wan’s eyes had a haunted look, there was fear in their depths and his hair was in disarray too. Without giving an answer, the Healer moved to the Jedi Master, who was partly woken by the commotion next to him. “Qui-Gon, you have to get up and leave, quick.” “What?” bearded features looked at the younger male in confusion. “No time for questions, hurry!” He was out of the room again, shouting orders that the two Jedi could not quite make out. “What was this all about?” asked the blonde and he slowly got out of bed. “I don’t know, but we should do as he says.” As fast as they could, the Jedi dressed in their Jedi uniforms that were freshly washed. Then, they exited their rooms, only to be greeted by complete chaos. Droids were hovering, driving and running down the corridors. They were beeping and saying things to each other and to humans and other beings they had in tow. Some of the droids were carrying obviously ill patients, who looked on the verge of death, others were carrying supplies. And in the middle of the chaos, was Obi-Wan. He seemed to know what each droid was doing and he seemed to be directing them, while also running wildly around. “No, get the children and the women to safety first, then the men. CT-24 drop that and get back to the the third floor.” “Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon yelled over the whole commotion. The Sith’s head turned to him, blue-green eyes recognizing the speaker. “No, no, evacuate the upper floors first.” He made his way towards the Jedi who had called, Qui-Gon met him halfway. The two Force users almost crashed into each other, but the long haired male grabbed the younger man’s elbows and held him close and steady, so that they would not be in the way of the working droids, at least not too much. “What’s the matter?” the taller male asked worried. “We are under attack. My scouts have informed me of a group of droids that are on their way here. There is no doubt what their goal is and… your former apprentice is leading them.” “Obi,” he wanted to apologize, but the Sith cut in. “I have to supervise the evacuation, excuse me.” He did not look too happy about letting go of the older man, but he did it nevertheless. Qui-Gon hurried to catch up with him, “Can we help?” He felt responsible for the attack and he didn’t want to see the ginger haired Healer in such distress. “No, yes… I don’t know. Get as many patients out if here as possible. Transports are waiting outside, they will bring them towards the villages beyond the mountain passage. They should be save there.” Qui-Gon nodded in understanding and pushed his chestnut brown hair out of his face, before turning to his apprentice, who had followed close behind. “You heard him Anakin, let’s go.”

The Master-Padawan-Team was surprised at how well the evacuation worked. They had experienced quite different things during their years together, bit Obi-Wan seemed to know exactly what he was doing. “Is everybody out?” Qui-Gon asked when the young Healer passed him one of the older patients. He carefully laid the old man onto a seat and gave the driver a sign to move. “Yes, except the droids and my heart, yes.” Qui-Gon wondered what THAT was supposed to mean and apparently his confusion had shown on his bearded features, for the young Sith hastily added, “This is my home Qui-Gon. I don’t know anything else… not anymore…” The Jedi Master felt guilt and sadness wash through him. They, he and Anakin, were responsible for this. He watched as the Sith climbed into the last transportation, the crucial cases were here and Obi-Wan had said that he wanted to keep an eye on them during the short drive. The Master sent a last glance towards the building that would soon be only ruins and followed the ginger haired male. He sat next to him. “Where is your Padawan?” it moved the Master to know that the Sith was concerned. “He travelled with the children.” Obi-Wan nodded. “Good, they could use the comfort.” “Obi-Wan? I’m truly so-” he was interrupted. “No! Don’t say it, I don’t want to hear it,” with a jolt their transport started moving. The Jedi sighed, “At least tell me if there is anything that I can do.” Blue-green eyes were suspiciously wet and Qui-Gon could not help himself, but to lay his arm over the other’s shoulder. To his surprise, Obi-Wan leaned into the contact. “I can’t think of anything.” And that from that brilliant mind of his. They may have known each other for only a few days, but to Qui-Gon the matter was clear. There was SOMETHING between him and the Sith Healer, though he did not exactly know the true nature yet. He only knew that the Force approved and that the Council most likely wouldn’t. The more reason for him to follow his heart. “You could come to the temple with me,” he did not say 'us’, he said 'me’. “To become a prisoner? I don’t think so.” He was about to pull away, but the older male did not allow it. “No, not as a prisoner, as a healer. I know I can convince the Council to accept you, especially after all you have done for Anakin and I.” Blue-green eyes avoided the other’s gaze. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” “What are you afraid of?” this was the inky explanation he could come up with. “I’m afraid of getting hurt again, of being alone and all on my own once more, I am afraid of being rejected.” The Sith’s hands clenched into fists and Qui-Gon unconsciously reached out with his free hand and covered them with his larger one. Obi-Wan looked startled at the contact, but then he relaxed and unclenched his fists, only to intertwine his finger’s with Qui-Gon’s. “You won’t be. I promise.” A shy smile appeared on the Healer’s features and it was the most beautiful thing Qui-Gon had seen. “Are you sure?” where was this nervousness coming from? “Yes, the temple can always use another talented Healer,” he hesitated, “And I would look forward to spending more time in your company.” Something sparkled in the smaller male’s eyes, it was a healthy mixture of mischief and sass. “Are you flirting with me, Master Jinn?” Qui-Gon huffed at the title, “Perhaps…” “What would that Code of yours say, hm?” he pretended to be scandalized. “In all honesty, the Code can go to hell.” There was no denying it. Now that Obi-Wan was so close and open, Qui-Gon could feel the bond between them pulse with life. “I’m rubbing off on you, I see.” He smiled cockily, which earned him a raised eyebrow.

Was it love between them? Qui-Gon was not sure. But he found that it didn’t really matter anyway. Whatever it was that connected them and formed the bond, it was pure and not influenced by darkness, that was enough for the Jedi Master. The rest would come in time, but for now, he would simply stay in the here and now and enjoy life and the Living Force and Obi-Wan at his side.

——— @quiobiweek

#quiobi week 2017 #sith au #sith!obi-wan #qui gone jinn #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #sith healer

[oreramar]

Starstones

[Original Flash Fiction.]

They say the stars are made of the mother goddess’ tears, cried over the stillborn bodies of her first children, first in sorrow, then in joy as the power of her grief gave her offspring life again. The three of them gathered these tears and scattered them throughout the heavens to shine whenever the night twins ruled the skies.

 They say that there were some tears left after they were done, and that they hid these deep, deep underground, embedded in stones as dark as the night itself, sparkling like their high-set fellows when exposed to the light.

 These are starstones: beautiful, magical, rare, expensive, and very, very well controlled.

 And, somehow, Firen had gotten hold of some…in a manner of speaking.

 “This seems like a bad idea,” Pasca said, eyeing the heap of fine, sparkling black powder cradled in his friend’s palm. “And where did you even get that?”

 “You know how I got that job in the Archmage’s household?” Firen asked, rooting out two cups and, from a hidden compartment in a little cupboard he’d built years ago, a hoarded flask of something sharp-smelling.

 “Yes, but--” Pasca cut himself off. “Firen, you didn’t…”

 “Oh lighten up. Everybody nicks a little something here and there. It’s a perk of the job.” He poured half the flask out into one cup and the rest into the other. “Want some? I’ve heard this is good in a drink.”

 “No, I don’t. And does everybody actually steal that?”

 “Nah. Most of them just take a bit of food here, maybe a draft of wine there. I’ve just got more refined tastes.” Firen dumped the powdered starstone into his cup and swilled it with one hand, watching the liquid fizz and throw silver sparks as it was absorbed.

 “But you’ve never actually had…that. Right?”

 “Nope. First time for everything, though.” Firen winked and raised his cup in a mock-toast. “See you on the other side!”

 Pasca watched him knock the drink back - cheap liquor and expensive additive - and waited, toying with his own cup uncertainly. Firen smacked his lips, staring at nothing, then focused on Pasca with too wide a smile.

 “Wow! That’s really good!”

 He was still smiling when his eyes rolled back and he keeled over with a dull thud, tin cup clattering out of his hand and rolling across the floor. Pasca quickly set his own cup aside and leaned over his friend.

 “Firen? You okay?”

 He didn’t so much as twitch when Pasca nudged him with his foot, or when he tapped his cheek. The smile never slackened either; it was becoming unnerving. Pasca rolled Firen onto a blanket and shoved a rolled-up coat under his head as a makeshift pillow, then sat to watch over him, unsure what else to do, unsure if this was a normal reaction to imbibing stardust.

 When Firen began to sweat, shake, and seize up half an hour later, the smile stiffened into a pained grimace, Pasca became certain that it wasn’t.

 -

 Old Man “Maddy” Maddock was the closest thing their district had to a physician. Mainly, he was a barber, but he could stitch wounds and mix herbs and at the very least you generally had a higher chance of dying of the ailment than of his cures, so people went to him and those that survived went back the next time something went wrong inside.

 He took one look at Firen and raised a bushy grey eyebrow.

 “And where’d you lads get the star-stuff, hmm?”

 “You recognize it?” Pasca asked, unsure if this was a relief or not.

 “Seen it once before,” he grunted, laying out his tools on the floor and sorting through a few vials. “Idiot boys. Stuff’s supposed to be mixed just a pinch in good wine. Guessing this one did the same as them - a handful in rough liquor. Am I right or wrong?”

 “You’re right. Can you help?”

 “Maybe. It’s a toss-up…heh. Which is exactly what we’re hoping for, in a way. Hold him up. We need to get this down him, so he might start getting that stuff back up.”

 Pasca did as asked, up to turning Firen on his side after Maddy had coaxed his potion down his throat. He was still sweating, his mouth still stretched in a ghastly parody of a smile, but the shaking at least had subsided for the time being. According to Maddy, if all went well it would soon enough be replaced by heaving.

 “Keep water in him,” he said, packing his things back up. “Watch him all night. It’ll be a mess, but getting it out’s his best chance now. And, boy, one last thing: nobody’ll hear it from me, but word has a way of spreading. If trouble comes of this, keep me out of it.”

 -

 It was a mess, and an ugly one at that, but Pasca kept watch and Firen survived to the morning at least. The forced smile on his face was gone at last, and he stopped sweating in the darkest part of the night, so that if not for the paleness of his skin and the smell of sickness in the little house he might almost have seemed to be peacefully asleep.

 By the time the next part of the mess arrived, Pasca was sure he’d live…as long as the archmage’s men didn’t take him.

 They knew. Pasca isn’t sure how they knew, or if they only suspected, or if Firen wasn’t as discrete about his ill-gotten perks as he should have been, or even if magic was somehow involved, but they knew the stardust was taken, and they knew it came here.

 “It was me,” Pasca lied, his heart racing. “I took it. Leave him; he had nothing to do with it.”

 They believed him, and Firen was left behind, unconscious but alive. All Pasca could do was hope that this would be enough.

#flash fiction month #writing

[zanpyreanor]

[Story] Captivity (Part 6)

Nuadathiel walked over to Zan and reaches up, dropped the curtain for privacy. He then looked down at the paladin, and reaches out with a finger to "boop" him on the nose.

Zan glanced up to Nuada and managed a weak sort of smile, "Hey."

Nuadathiel knelt down and opened his arms, pulling Zandrae into a hug. He enfolded him in his wings.

Zan's smile faded as Nuada pulled him into a hug, while melancholy, Zane returned the hug, "It's hard resisting being really intolerable for everyone's sake. I want to be the biggest little shit."

The older elf nodded.

Zan grunted, "I want to resist. Cages aren't fun unless there's a safeword involved and that big blue peacock motherfucker didn't ask permission to put us here or make a safeword, if there was a safeword I would have already said it a dozen times."

Nuadathiel gave another nod, "I am going to try something."

The elf looked at his hand and flexed it, and then stood by the cell door. He began to change incrementally, until he was a bipedal eagle. Wicked talons sprouted from his fingertips. He reached around and began fiddling with the lock. A bell went off, and Nuada sat on the bed, resuming the form of an elf. Valthan and eight guards with drawn weapons rushed in.

Zan blinked and remained in his bed, thoughts crossing his mind; it figures the locks would be alarmed. He grumbled under his breath.

"Which one of you tried to pick the lock?" asked a guard.

Keylorian ignored him. He was still holding the crane pose, his attention intentionally elsewhere.

Valthan looked around and attempted to make eye contact with each prisoner. "Well?" he asked impatiently. His hair dripped water on the floor.

Iviaen looked down at the guards, then at his journal, then he spoke, "Chabo's a minuscule chicken, so cute that your heartbeat will quicken. On your shoulder he'll ride. You'll display him with pride. He is "good" but he's not "finger-lickin'."""

Nuadathiel smirked.

Zan eyed Valthan, "Eat a dick."

Valthan snapped his fingers and the cages lowered to the floor. He pointed at Zandrae's cage, and the door opened, "Bring the silver one to my office," growled the druid.

Zan got up and moved over to near Nuada, "Leave him alone."

Nuadathiel's ears pinned back as two guards stepped over to the cage. The rest left the room, and Valthan made to follow them when Nuadathiel spoke. "Valthan," he said softly.

The druid turned and looked him over, "Yes, Silverblade?" The druid waved the guards aside and stood in front of the cage.

The magus gently pushed Zandrae away from the entrance of the cell, "Oh, come closer, you coward, I want to get a better look at you." He pushed the door open; his wings fluttered, and stepped out to stand in front of the druid. The guards shouldered the door to the cell closed and grabbed Nuadathiel's arms as the druid turned his back and walked out of the room. Once Valthan left, the mage tilted his head, and his wings seemed to flail of their own accord, distracting the guards. A feather caught on a key ring, arced it through the air, and it landed against the side of Iviaen, and Keylorian's cell as the distracted guards dragged Nuada away.

Iviaen grabbed the key ring and stuck it under his mattress.

Zan rattled the door once it closed, he was frustrated that Nuada pushed him aside while he was being protective; he let out an aggravated yell.

A flash of purple light shown from under the door, and the birds in the pens ruffled their wings.

The door flew open, and a guard entered at full running speed, pursued by a very angry harpy eagle. He had a wicked looking slash across his scalp, which was bleeding profusely. Nuada landed on his head and the guard made the mistake of reaching up to grab his talons. With a slash of the eagle's beak, the guard was on the floor and the mage landed, dodging a bolt of moonfire as the angry druid entered the room. The birds huddled in their pens.

Valthan attempted to entangle Nuadathiel in roots, but found himself held fast, instead, as the mage cast a counter-reflection spell.

Zan looked at the fight, then at the birds huddled in their pens, then at the fight. His ears drooped in sympathy for the birds, but he remained at the door, his hands around the bars, "Get him, Nuada."

Nuada froze the druid in place with a word and then leaped at him, changed into the taloned form he had been wearing on awakening. With great, raking blows, the two former mates fought, silver and blue feathers flew everywhere.

Iviaen looked to Nuada and spoke, "Why not teleport away while you can?"

"Not without you three," Nuada called back.

Iviaen looked to Keylorian, "..."

Keylorian said softly, "the anti-magic properties are obviously limited to the cages, and the distraction will not last long."

Iviaen grabbed the key and moved to unlock the cage, "Then let's get out and make some magic." He went through keys until the cage lock unlocked. He opened the door. By now if an alarm wasn't going off, it's probably going off now.

Keylorian took the keys from Iviaen and unlocked Zandrae's cage as a low hum filled the room.

Zan hopped out and summoned a hard-light barrier around himself, "Okay." He then moved to throw some healing light onto Nuada and treat any battle wounds he might have sustained, "Let's get out of here."

Nuadathiel stood and started to go through the motions of casting a portal, then snarled and simply ripped a volatile tear in space between the room and Eversong, "Go!"

Iviaen bolted for the portal, "Let's go."

Zan looked to Nuada, "Not without you."

"I am coming," a taloned foot stood on the druid's neck, "I have to keep him subdued and the portal open. Go." He pushed Zandrae toward Keylorian and the portal, occupied with the struggle to hold it open and keep the druid subdued.

Iviaen leapt through the portal.

Keylorian attempted to grab Zandrae and leap through the portal. His fingers grasped the paladin's sleeve and there was a tearing noise as he passed through.

Two loud cracks rang out in the room, and objects at high velocity whistled by Zandrae's head. The boundaries of the portal began to wobble and falter as the silver-haired mage staggered, blossoms of red blood formed on his chest.

Zan's shirt ripped, he looked at the portal, and then looked at Nuada, "No!" He turned his attention to Nuada and began frantically threw healing spells on his friend.

The birds huddled in their cages, trembling as guards poured in. They raised rifle and bow, pointing them at Zandrae and Nuadathiel as the paladin frantically worked to heal his friend. Two bullets clattered onto the floor from Nuadathiel's chest.

Zan looked at the guards who pointed the weapons pointed at him and continued healing, "I'm not going to fight you, I'm healing my friend. Once he's stable I'll surrender."

The highest-ranking guard there nodded, and they backed away. A priestess came forward and began work on the druid, lifted Nuadathiel off Valthan, and wrapped the druid in shadow to mend his wounds.

Zan kneelt by Nuada and focused on healing him, the ginger kept his hands where the guards could see them and made no sudden movements. Non-compliance would leave them both dead, where if he behaved the two might both survive.

Once the priestess had healed Vanthal enough to stabilize him, she waved to someone at the door, and two other healers came in with a stretcher. Attendants began dismantling the cell that Iviaen and Keylorian occupied then relocated items left behind to Nuada and Zan's cell. The owl and the crane vanished as if they were never there in the first place. An attendant sedated and removed the terrified peacock. With a flash of light and ozone, the now-empty pens disappeared.

As Zan finished doing what he could for Nuada, he slowly moved his hands up into the air and rested his palms, open, against the back of his neck. He spoke, "You guys should get lessons from an actual warden."

The guards carried Nuadathiel and guided Zandrae into the cell, laying the mage on the bed and injecting him with a syringe. They affixed cuffs to the left ankle of each elf and touched a gem on each, which caused them to close with a "snick" and become practically weightless. Another guard entered with a box of rations and a keg of water, and the door to the cell closed. The last guard shut the door, and the room plunged into darkness.

Zan remained compliant and entered the cell; he even offered his ankle to the captors to cuff. He frowned at the healed and unconscious Nuada, "Alas, poor birdy." He sat on his bed and brought his knees to his chest.

#Keylorian Dawnraker #Nuadathiel #Zandrae Pyreanor #Iviaen Brightblaze #The Society Strikes Storyline #The Society Strikes #The Society Storyline